Return of Lu Ten
by Texcatlipoka
Summary: Are all firebenders an enemy? Sokka is deeply suspicious of their new firebending team member and he's been right before. Only time will tell who's side he's really on, but with the Solar Eclipse quickly approaching, that isn't a luxury the party has.
1. Appearance

**This is my first Avatar fic, and it's going to start up quite open-ended. I goanna decide about keeping it "cartoony" or changing it into dead serious angsty material later, depending on what you reviewers think. Also, if I've made any continuity errors go ahead and tell me about them, but I probably won't change anything unless it's serious. **

**This fanfiction sets out from the series 3 episode "the beach," and will then probably diverse wildly from the actual storyline. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender **

He hesitated.

Ozai suddenly exploded from the chair in a whirl of flame, blasting him back. The spear of ice shattered like glass, renting the air.

Yet Ozai came on without mercy, without respite, sinews taut and eyes blazing, and unleashing an unending hell-storm from which nothing could escape...

**Some weeks before... **

"We're being followed," Toph said suddenly.

"That's impossible," said Sokka resolutely, "no-one could have any reason for following us, everyone thinks the Avatar's dead, remember?"

"He's still there though," Toph insisted. "I can feel him coming. He'll be here in less than thirty seconds."

"She looked to the others for a decision. Finding none present, she adopted a fighting stance. "I'll get him out the trees-"

"Wait!"

"What is it Aang?" Katara interjected when Toph showed no sign of dropping her stance.

"Look," he said, "I know this sounds a little crazy, but how could he have kept up with us unless he already knew we would be here, and he was waiting?"

It was a frightening truth. Appa was still saddled. They had been on the ground less than a minute.

Sokka seemed to suddenly grow a lot more attentive. "Who d'you suppose he is?"

"I dunno," She shrugged. "You've got the working eyes here. But he's tall and slender, but stepping quite hard for his size."

"Which means," Said Sokka with a look of deep concentration, "that he either doesn't know you ca feel vibrations, or he does know and wants to make sure he's found."

"He's stopped!"

"What?"

"He's circling the trees; I've had enough of this, I'm going in after him."

"No hold on," Aang said, running over, "he might be friendly."

"Yeh," Sokka muttered, " 'Cause we have a talent for always meeting the friendly people."

Katara suddenly interrupted again, "What if it's that guy from a few days ago? You know who I mean."

"Combustion man!" Sokka breathed, apparently thinking up the name on the spot.

This stopped the whole party dead in its tracks. None of them wanted him to jump out at them.

When he suddenly burst from the tree line all four of the kids seemed to be stunned into action. But it wasn't Combustion Man.

"You'd better move _right now_!"

The group momentarily dropped their fighting stances-, which could have been a terrible mistake.

"Come on, go!" he persisted, "your metal friend will be here any second. You must leave!"

"That's impossible," Toph was whispering, but in the deathly silence it was clearly audible, "I would know if he was coming, he makes so much-"

Her face went pale.

"What happened?" Aang cried, louder than he wanted, "is he here."

The clearly was simultaneously filled with a thunderous roar and a blinding, searing light; several trees suddenly ceased to exist.

From the charred remains a huge, muscled man came- a metal man.

There was another flash and an explosion. Aang had dropped to the ground just in time to avoid being blown completely apart.

"Everyone on Appa!" He screamed, the noise of the previous explosions seeming as loud as ever.

There was an ecstasy of scrabbling as the group hauled themselves up the furry beast while also keeping their eyes on Combustion Man.

Toph stopped at Appa's foot and hurled several boulders- as huge as she could manage in a second's opportunity.

A third explosion; the boulders were spontaneously crushed and melted like a tin mug in a furnace.

Their first arrival, whom they had totally forgotten existed, suddenly leapt into action. Throwing himself in, he threw a clenched fist, lighting the air with flames. Combustion man moved aside without a millisecond to spare.

"Get on!" Aang shouted to him above the chaos.

Sokka, who was already aboard, turned from Appa's head and grabbed him. "Don't let him on, he's fire nation!"

"So?! The Fire Nation thinks I'm dead! If we leave him he'll be killed."

Aang tried to turn to help, but Sokka swung him back by both shoulders. Aang could see and feel the light and heat erupting intermittently from below.

"Just stop and think, will you! Why would a Fire Nation be following us unless he knew you were the Avatar?"

Toph had just clambered up the tail, "What's the delay?"

"There isn't one!" Sokka shouted back above the noise and confusion and clambering back onto Appa's head. But Aang was already gone.

Barely feet below, the clearing had been turned into a battlefield. The air was filled with smoke and soot and burning leaves that fluttered about on the wind as they disintegrated. Not a tree had been left unscarred.

Aang's attack took Combustion Man completely by surprise. Aang dropped to the ground easily, hurling a blast of air with his arms and ripping up the ground in a deep crevasse.

He sidestepped one but the blast caught him, hurling him back against the base of a tree. The stranger seemed to know exactly what was intended by the move. Without a word between them he spun on his heel and ran up Appa's tale, dropping into the saddle where he was surrounded by wary eyes. Aang jumped up barely a second later. In less than five they were a hundred feet in the air, then higher, once again leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

They flew gently for several minutes in absolute silence. The newcomer seemed to be sizing each of them up just as they were him. The tension set everyone on edge. Even Appa and Momo seemed apprehensive.

Finally, the tall, slender stranger spoke. "Thank-you for saving me back in the clearing. That man is not someone you want to have on your tail."

"Still, it is good to have finally caught up with you. I have been searching for some time. My name is Lu Ten. I'm a firebender."

On the ground, Combustion man watched the distant speck slowly fad against the horizon, and his deep-set features formed into a wisp of a smile. The seed was sown. He would soon have them all.

**End of Chapter 1. **

**Okay, so any of you dedicated fans will probably know who this stranger is already, but that's fine. Read and review please. Tell me how serious I should make this fic. **


	2. Stories

**Sorry I took so long updating- hopefully it'll be shorter once the Christmas holiday starts. If you're keeping up with this, please review for each chapter so I know you're still reading. **

**Now I'm obviously improvising in this story as well, since for example nobody in the story ever really seems to get hot or cold- so I'm adding it in when I need to (and want to). **

For the addition of a fully-grown firebending master to the party- just weeks before the upcoming eclipse- things were rattled considerably less than anyone could have expected.

Lu Ten seemed to have just drifted in and settled into an empty space they had never seen or recognised before, as though he had been meant to be there and the engagement had been reserved for him long in advance. And now he was here, he seemed totally in the right place.

His tall, slender character didn't by any means suggest that he wasn't use to getting things done by physical means, and the way strands of his black hair hung down, and the way his arms and his shoulders swayed when he walked seemed somehow very assuring.

Needless to say, however, everyone was extremely curious to know exactly why he had suddenly appeared. But he refused to speak about any of it until they were on land and stopped for the night. But somehow his concealment of this information didn't seem to be remotely worrying for anyone.

The only one of them who was anything like suspicious was unsurprisingly Sokka. He was quick to point out his animosity as they sailed along but the others simply laughed off his scepticism. Aang in particular couldn't understand how Lu Ten had earned such mistrust.

But though he didn't say it aloud, they had somewhat missed the point: his "scepticism" was beginning to aim itself in more than one direction. The simple truth was that the entire character and motivation of the Avatar and his companions- including himself- was making him very apprehensive. He couldn't really explain it, not even in his own mind, but with the eclipse growing steadily nearer he felt sure that it would soon become clear.

The Fire Nation islands were known mainly for two things- the blistering heat in the day throughout most of the year, and the freezing cold and howling winds at night.

So a large, warm fire summoned by Lu Ten was welcome when they landed, and everyone snuggled up to it appreciatively.

"So, what's the story?" asked Aang inquisitively, leaning in closer to the fire."

"It isn't much of a story," Lu Ten replied, his back against a trunk, "I've been following you a long time, but nothing much really happened."

"How long?" Sokka inquired.

"I'm not really sure: I haven't been keeping track of time. I picked up your trail ages ago, back in Aunt Wu's village I think."

"That long ago?" Katara said.

"Yes, but I lost the trail several times. It's hard for a single man on foot to keep up with a flying beast. I nearly reached you at the North Pole, and again at Ba Sing Se. After that I lost you for a while again- everyone thought you were dead. But when I saw the giant Rook belonging to our friend Combustion Man I knew there was only one man-child- he could have been chasing. Other than that I was always some way behind you."

There was a while of silence while everyone registered this information. Several times Sokka looked on the verge of asking the question, but then withdrew it, apparently thinking it unwise. Finally Toph asked a question-, which was unusual.

"Your name's Lu Ten. Yes? That's strange. I think I've heard it connected to a firebender before."

"There are a lot of Lu's in the Fire Nation, Toph."

"But not Lu Ten's. Ten is usually associated with... royalty."

Aang leaned in.

Katara turned her eyes to him.

Sokka rubbed his chin.

Toph's gaze could never have indicated she was blind.

Finally he replied, "You probably just heard my name as a footnote. You see, Aang," he turned his eyes, whose gaze seemed to indicate to the Avatar that Lu Ten knew something he didn't, which would ruin him if spoken aloud. "I also have the... luxury... of being believed to be dead."

Silence dropped again between the trees, filling up all the space. The crackle of the fire seemed almost insulting to it.

Lu Ten held his gaze for some time on the Avatar- Aang had dropped his eyes almost immediately and was reluctant to look back up. Sokka was thinking. Toph was waiting. Katara was anxious for the moment to end. Only Lu disguised his emotions, so perfectly and with such ease that they knew he must be rehearsed in it. For Sokka, it was only more proof not to trust him. To Aang, it was almost sad.

"So what are you here for then?" Sokka asked, swinging Lu Ten's knowing eyes on him. Aang gave an inward relieved sigh.

He replied instantly, "To teach the Avatar firebending."

"That's pointless," said Sokka immediately, "when we attack on the eclipse no-one will be able to firebend anyway."

Aang was about to speak but Sokka continued relentlessly "Why should we stop even for an extra ten minutes to train with you when it won't even help in the battle?"

Again Aang appeared about to speak, again he was cut off, "and Aang's already training three hours a day most days, why should we increase the workload!?"

"Sokka, stop being so hostile!" Said Katara, immediately agitated.

"No, I won't calm down!" By now Sokka was showing signs of his sister's temperament emerging. "What reason have we got to trust this guy?"

"What reason have we got not to?" said Katara, her voice raising as well?"

"Just calm down." Aang said placidly. There was immediately silence. Perhaps it was his posture, or his tone, or the look in his eyes, but Aang was speaking from his own unique and heartfelt pleading that only emerged when he felt passionately for something.

Sokka and Katara reluctantly calmed. "So what's your reason then," said Sokka more quietly.

Lu leaned further back on the tree, which appeared very conclusive, "I think it's important that he does."

"Why?"

"It merely is. Perhaps because he will be better able to read Ozai's moves if he gets the chance to attack-"

"He won't get that chance." Aang was almost scared by the momentary glimpse of murder in Sokka's eyes as he said this.

"Then maybe it's because the Avatar is supposed to master all elements. I don't know for sure. Only that he needs to learn it.

"But it doesn't matter," said Aang, looking relieved to finally make his point. "'Cause I said I would never firebend when I was at Jeong-Jeong's-"

He paused. His eyes got a little wide, then he resumed on a different thought, talking hurriedly.

"Hang on, you said you were behind us since Aunt Wu's..."

"Yes?"

"Did you lose us after that?"

"No."

Lu Ten already knew what Aang was asking about, but he allowed him to continue.

"Then you would have passed through Jeong-Jeong's camp. Did you see him? Did he say anything? Did-"

Just by leaning forward, Lu had cut him off, and informed everyone of the importance of what he was about to say.

"I found the camp, Aang. Zhao was still there over four days after you had left." Here he paused. Aang looked as though he would pass out if he didn't resume.

He sighed deeply. "Jeong-Jeong was being loaded onto a ship surrounded by guards. I assumed that more ships had turned up after you burnt the first, and Zhao had evidently gone for revenge."

He gave a final, very definitive sigh. "He's captured Aang... Or dead... I'm not sure which. Your arrival at the camp obviously gave away his position. Either way, the enemy has him."

**End of Chapter 2 **

**Yes, this one could get pretty Angsty, but again tell me how serious you think this story should get. A Rook, in case you didn't know, is a black European bird of the crow family. Obviously it's not nearly so big as Combustion Man's in real life. **


	3. Discussion

**This is Chapter 3. I believe I'm right when I say that Sokka's already got his sword by the time this fanfic starts off. If he shouldn't have it... well, who cares. This one sets off some time after the last chapter, when the party have settled for the night. Just to say, the text between the two other sections, i.e. the middle section isn't really essential to read, but I think it would be good for background. **

**Sorry this is coming along quite slow. Next chapter will be a fight scene... I promise. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Aang: The Last Airbender. **

The news of the removal of Jeong-Jeong, who had seemed in everyone's eyes utterly eternal and immortal, was a shock to the very core. Aang was rendered totally speechless. Lu Ten had closed his eyes after his words, and saw very little of what happened afterward. But it was evident that Aang was crying bitterly; and possibly Katara as well. They spoke to each other a little as well, all in quiet, hushed parental voices to Aang, who replied so quietly he doubted they could hear him.

He wasn't entirely sure for how long it remained like this- he had no intention of cutting it short- But when the last remnants of sunlight disappeared from his eyelids, and he assumed it to be night, he murmured that he would take first watch.

No reply, which he assumed to be assent, so he roused himself, stood and turned as quickly as possible, and went to sit on a rock at the outskirts of the clearing.

He had caught a single glimpse of the scene.

Aang had been sitting- if it could be called that for its awkwardness-, hugging his legs very tightly, so tightly as to almost be trying to push his entire small frame out of existence. Katara had been on his left, Sokka on his right, Toph behind, kneeling and looking impossibly grave- for she had never met him and couldn't understand. The lemur was in his lap, and Appa stood by, perhaps not entirely sure of what was happening other than that his loyal friend was rent at the soul.

It was a mournful reminder of what, for all their skills, they still remained- lonely children. And, secretly, it perhaps tickled a single string of his heart as well, for the old general had been a good friend.

He was on watch for some time into the night, alert and attentive. He had seen men killed who dropped their guard on watch. But he didn't look back into the clearing. Their problems could resolve themselves, until he was in a better position to do more.

The wind picked up suddenly (as it always did in Fire Nation nights) and he wrapped his heavy travelling cloak tightly around himself.

Likely he would be up "on watch" all night, but that didn't matter. It had been well known before his "death" that he could go for days at a time without sleep.

So he was mildly surprised when he heard footsteps from behind. He glanced back, just enough to use the corner of his eye, and saw that it was Sokka. The Water Tribe boy came and stood next to him.

He didn't want to get involved, but he had to say something.

"How is he?"

"Sleeping."

"And the others?"

"The same. Everyone's asleep, except me."

There was a moment's pause, pervaded only by the wind and the tiniest noise of the fire in the clearing.

"I hadn't expected him to feel for the man so much."

Sokka sat down by the rock, "That's Aang for you. He's like that about people he meets. And I think... I think he found hope in the fact that Jeong-Jeong proved that he wasn't the first to deny the Fire Nation and survive."

Lu Ten nodded once as a sign of his agreement. The silence returned, menacingly as ever. It was curious how often this happened when Lu Ten was involved in conversation, he found.

Finally he stated the obvious in his usual manner: simply, calmly and without passion or severity.

"You don't trust me, do you?"

Sokka hesitated, but didn't betray the move in his expression. "There are things you're not telling us."

"True. We all have secrets."

"Not from our friends."

Lu Ten raised his eyebrows at this, but turned his gaze back into the forest.

"You're wise not to trust me, Sokka. Cynical people are usually more cunning than others. _Great Intellects are Sceptical._"

"Really? I hadn't expected that. Who said that, by the way?"

"Great Intellects are Sceptical? A classical Fire Nation philosopher by the name of Fiang Nao. I am a great lover of philosophy."

"Why? What for?"

"It helps us discover who we were, who we are becoming, and we want to turn into." He concluded into very proverbially, his head tilted up towards the stars just visible between the trees.

He adjusted his cloak on his lap. "But more to the point," he said, retuning the talk perfectly, "you must learn more about scepticism. You cannot be sceptical of everyone all the time. Truth is crucial. When you cross a market path you have to trust the wagon drivers to stop- you can't wait until there are none around."

On this note the conversation came pretty much to a close. Lu Ten was inwardly satisfied that he had made an impression. But another thought occurred to him, and he motioned with his head at the rest of the group.

"They think you're a fool, you know."

Sokka looked at them, the sleeping figures so careless in sleep, then looked back. The news seemed to have only just occurred to him- but Lu knew it hadn't.

"I don't think that's true."

Lu simply made an unreadable facial gesture, somewhere in the region of "of course, if you say so."

Finally he said, "Don't be like them, Sokka. You have a great deal of untapped intelligence. For all their virtues, you are living in their shadow. It isn't good for a man- or a boy."

"I'm not a boy, Lu, not anymore. That changed when I left with Aang."

"You may be right."

The return of that waiting silence; but it was an easier silence than at the start of the conversation. Finally Sokka turned away, then turned back and said:

"I still don't trust you, though." But the words carried no venom, and he was almost smiling, "And I really don't think we shouldn't have given first watch to a man we've known less than a day."

And with that the conversation well and truly was over. Lu Ten laughed to himself as Sokka walked away- as he had predicted, his first watch would indeed last all night.

With the conversation over, Lu Ten was in higher spirits- momentarily, at least, then his mood returned to a simple, emotionless calm. He glanced up briefly at a late-flying bird.

Abruptly he stood. The wind blasted up and yanked at the folds of his cloak as he began to run, quickly and steadily. He had all night to disappear for.

And into the trees, disappear he did.

**End of Chapter 3 **

**In case anyone who read the middle section was wondering "Great intellects are sceptical" is a real quote by the 19th century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. I may add some more philosophical quotes during the story as my own little "Easter egg." Read and Review please. **


	4. Attack

**At some point I'm going to introduce Zuko to this story, hopefully the next chapter, because I have a quite important role planned for him later. But since he's only at home scenes about him will generally just be "thoughts"... and I'm still working on what he should think about! **

**Oh, and there are going to be some "Bull Antelope" in this chapter. Just imagine really muscular antelope.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

By the time the party was awake, there was nothing whatsoever to suggest that Lu Ten had ever stepped off his rock. In fact, he was the one who had woken them all, which Sokka was greatly displeased about, despite having no obvious reason to be.

Appa was loaded with the things in silence. Clearly Jeong-Jeong had been the first thing on all of their minds when they woke up, and it didn't look like that was going to change soon. Aang especially looked bad- considering tear tracts still showed since last night.

This would be a slow healing wound, Lu decided as he mounted the bison. Yet, why should it be? The thought was unbidden, but it had appeared before, and he couldn't deny it. Didn't these children realise they dealt in death? That they were killers?

That was a bitter concept. To be a killer was one thing, but Lu accepted his status as that- if they were ignoring it, or maybe even unaware... sickening.

Minutes later they were in the air, and there was nothing left in the clearing to say they had ever made camp there. And perhaps- for them- at least, that made the news easier to bear. As the camp drew farther away, so also did the place where the news imparted, and so the news itself.

Of course it was just a theory, but the mood was noticeably lighter. Sokka was sharpening his boomerang (what a ridiculous weapon, Lu thought), but the hiss of the whetstone wasn't intrusive. Toph looked bored but certainly not mournful. Katara was leaning over the saddle looking downward.

It was about this time that everything appeared to return to normal with lightning speed and abruptness.

Katara suddenly cried, "Look, a herd of Bull Antelope!"

Aang was immediately perched beside her. "I thought those only lived in the Earth Kingdom!" He was wearing an impish grin. "It's mating season. I wanna ride one!"

So Lu had been wrong. This was a phenomenally fast healing wound.

As though the decision were his alone, Aang got back onto Appa's head and steered him downward.

"We are going down already?" Asked Toph, who obviously had trouble knowing what was happening aboard Appa.

"There's a herd of Bull Antelope," Aang explained. "They're great for riding in mating season."

Lu saw the moment to intervene, "Should we really be doing this?"

"Why not?" Asked Katara.

He chose his words carefully "We have just under three weeks before the day of the invasion. I still need to teach Aang firebending. It may be unwise to distract ourselves from the main goal."

"It's just a bit of fun," said Aang innocently.

"I think Lu's right here, actually" said Sokka, "With that little time we can't afford to be wasting time.

"Look who suddenly agrees with whom!" Said Katara spitefully.

"Katara, I'm trying to look at these reasonably..."

"And besides," Aang added, "We're not wasting time, we're having fun. Having fun is never a waste of time."

"You mean you're having fun," said Sokka sulkily as he leaned back.

And so the discussion was concluded.

Aang was right: it was fun, and it wasn't a waste of time. It helped greatly to speed things along. Aang wasted no time in finding the largest, angriest male Bull Antelope, scrambling onto its back and holding on by the horns as it stampeded wildly about.

The rest of the group waited at a safe distance (which was quite far), lying in the grass. The sight was a large watering hole situated in the centre of a gently sloping crater.

"You didn't say anything on our way to land," Lu said to Toph curiously, after about an hour had passed.

She shrugged. "It didn't matter. It still doesn't. Either way, so long as we reach the rendezvous point for the invasion, we've won."

"What makes you so sure?"

"There's no way any dumb Fire Lord could take all of us."

There they were forced to break off the conversation. Lu stood up; Sokka followed suit.

"What is it?"

Lu narrowed his eyes. "The Bull Antelope. They're scattering."

It was true. The herd, which had been clustered around the watering hole just moments before, were quickly retreating in all directions.

A flock of birds sailed hastily away overhead. Katara was on her feet as well.

Aang had just dismounted from the Bull Antelope, which stood still shaking with fear. Seeing his friends stood up, he shouted over to them "Something wrong?"

Before they could reply, Toph was on her feet as well, her skin a shade of pale they had only seen once before.

"It's Combustion man!" She screamed back. "I missed him _again_!"

The air was suddenly split open by a tremendous whistling like ten trebuchets. Aang followed the noise- and dived sideways.

The explosion missed by inches, ripping apart the Bull Antelope in a bloody swathe.

Katara began sprinting down the side of the crater, the rest following closely behind.

Another shot flew down towards Aang from the opposite side of the crater. Aang leapt sideways again, using his airbending. Another crater appeared in the larger.

Katara got to his side first, then Lu. Aang's right side was painted with Antelope blood. Toph ran past them and took up a stance.

"C'mon, I say we can beat this guy! We've got _all_ the elements now!"

Another shot sailing forwards. Toph threw up a wall of earth five feet thick; it burst at the base spectacularly hurling chunks of debris into the air. Aang, rushing over, caught them in mid-fall and hurled them back at the metal figure who was charging down the side of the crater.

They received the same spontaneous melting and crushing as the last had.

Another shot. Katara lifted water from the waterhole and created a wall of ice.

A tremendous hiss sounded as the wall instantly evaporated.

Summoning more water, she created a literal arsenal of icy spears and hurled them. These were given the same treatment.

With a sweep of the arm Toph ripped up the earth in front of her in preparation for a fierce attack. As she brought the arm back, Lu grabbed it.

"We've got to escape!" He yelled at her. "No-one can stop him. It's impossible."

"He's right!" shouted Sokka, who had wisely held a little way back.

The infamous whistling cautioned a second attack.

With a cry of effort Aang unleashed a fearsome blast of air.

Barely seeming affected, the shot landing some ten feet short, blasting Aang and Katara from their feet.

We've got to go," agreed Aang, leaping up. "His shots are getting stronger with range."

Katara came up to stand behind Toph.

There was a moment's pause-, which was all they had, then Toph gave in and they all turned to run for Appa.

Another shot pursued them, accompanied by the dread whistling.

"Keep going!" Lu cried after them, stopping and swinging.

He took a deep breath, adopting a defensive stance.

He held the breath.

Calm.

His hands extended, cupped outward, left foot behind the right.

Total calm.

The shot was nearly upon him.

Now! A flurry of unbridled passion. Pure, raw, sheer emotion.

The power of it filling every vein he brought his arms back with the shot a foot before him, then punched them forward.

It reversed. The metal man stared agape at his own fireball roaring towards him. At the last moment he unleashed another shot, straight at the other.

The discharge as the two met was so destructive that there appeared at their meeting point a deeper crater than the one they stood in.

Sound soared out in all directions, drowning and filling everything at once with so much noise that even Aang and the group on Appa thought they would be deaf forever with its loudness. The fireball shone like a star for its single second of life, then vanished, leaving dust and charred soil.

Combustion Man was retreating up the side of the crater, apparently injured.

Lu sighed in deep relief and stood up from where he had been thrown, some three feet from where he had taken the stance, ears ringing, partially blinded, and made his way swiftly back to Appa.

**End of Chapter 4 **

**I hope you enjoyed the fight scene! R&R. **


	5. Splinters in loyalty

**So we're on Chapter 5. Can't think of much worth saying. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender **

"That was amazing!" Said Aang, as soon as they were in the air. "How did you do that?"

Lu Ten, looking comfortable with his arms folded, replied simply "you've got blood on your face," thus dodging the question.

Aang felt his cheek. The fingers came back red with sticky, congealed blood.

"We need to stop and wash up," he said, not looking too reluctant.

"No way," said Sokka immediately, "Combustion Man could be out there anywhere. He keeps catching up with us, as though he knew where to be in advance!"

"I believe he was wounded," Lu Ten pointed out.

"It doesn't matter. If he's learnt how to sneak up on us without Toph noticing, who knows what else he can do. He's still a threat." He added the final sentence as a sort of arbiter, as though this and a dramatic hand gesture of punching his palm would resolve the matter.

Lu, by far the oldest, was the only one there experienced enough to detect the subtle undercurrent of satisfaction in Sokka's voice- he was clearly happy that Toph's abilities were not quite as great as she made them out to be.

Or perhaps Toph had also noticed, for she was clearly offended.

"Look Sokka, he caught me off guard. It won't happen again. I'll be more careful and there's no _way_ he'll be able to avoid me."

"But it doesn't work that way," replied Sokka, unwittingly patronizing, "how can you just "be more careful?" It's not like you can just feel the vibrations harder."

"What? You think I can't!"

"I think you can't."

"Hold on, just wait," said Aang, eager to diffuse the argument, "It doesn't really matter does it? All we have to do is keep running away from him until the eclipse, and then we'll be fine."

"Well I'd love to do that," replied Sokka fiercely, "but someone keeps trying to get us tied up in a fight."

He pointed a finger aggressively at Aang, "that could have been your blood!"

Aang, stood there looking a little shaken, but Toph was loath to let Sokka have the last word.

"Well, _maybe _if there were five benders on our side, rather than four benders and some chicken with a fancy boomerang, we might have actually been able to beat him!"

"Will you guys stop it!" shouted Katara, wielding Aang's attempt with a new vitality. "This is pointless."

"Yeah," Aang put in., "We don't need to fight. Okay some of you made some mistakes-" too late Aang realized his tongue had slipped.

"_Us?_" She turned on Aang ferociously, "If you hadn't wanted to ride those stupid Bull Antelope, _none of this_ would have happened!"

Aang could do nothing but whimper. Katara's aggression struck him totally mute, and he sat back down silent.

Katara was immediately apologetic. She sat down alongside him, which she knew was comforting.

"I'm sorry Aang. You could never have known. It wasn't-"

"No Katara, it was his fault," said Sokka suddenly.

This hit Aang the same blow again.

"It was his fault. You know why? Because he wanted to have fun." Sokka's eyes swept over everyone, save Lu who was looking into his lap.

"I think it's about time we stopped trying to have fun, and started thinking about this. We're trying to save _the world_." He said passionately, "Everyone in it, to make things safe and fair again. To save thousands- no millions- of lives."

At this point his voice became more bitter. "And all you can think about is riding animals. We should be training, and sparring, and fighting the Fire Nation all the time. There shouldn't be any room for fun. We stop when we need to, for food or for hygiene. Yes, we need to stop now, but no more stopping for fun, at all. Don't you get it? We're fighting for the world- and every time we land we put ourselves in danger. If you died, Aang…"

His point concluded, Sokka run out of things to say. Realizing his finger was still pointed accusingly, and had pointed several times at several people, he dropped it. He had fully expected some sort of retort, or argument, but since there was none, he sat down, muttering a "yeah," as though it were a conclusion.

Lu muttered something about taking the reins and looking for a landing point, but no one was listening. So he stepped over the two forms of Katara and Aang, close together and kneeling, and past Toph, who could have been brooding, and Sokka, who looked as though he would never speak anything funny again.

And no one saw the smile.

**End of Chapter 5. **

**Sorry this one's a little shorter than the others, but it seemed appropriate as its own chapter. R&R.**


	6. Second night

**Just saying I've enabled anonymous reviews at suggestion now, so could everyone reading please review. **

**Zuko's first appearance in this chapter, not that he does much. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The last Airbender. **

It would have been impossible to describe Zuko as fiercely angry and frustrated, as he stood at the rail of the boat sailing back to the mainland from Ember Island.

Impossible, because this in itself would portray it as being a rare occasion. Zuko was always angry, and always frustrated. Perhaps half the reason for this was simply that he didn't know what cause he had to be angry.

And above all, he was confused.

For two years he had searched for an Avatar everyone thought was dead; for a further year he had trailed the Avatar, shocking the whole Fire Nation into pursuit as well. He had come so close to redemption, but every time, by a flaw of a plan, a careless mistake, or sheer luck, the Avatar had escaped.

During those years he had assumed he could get no angrier.

But he had. Ironically enough, he was even angrier now that he was accepted. The whole country thought he was a fearless, ambitious war hero, when just weeks before he had been a hated outcast. His father loved and respected him again, praising him for his fabulous victory, when weeks before he had held him in disgusted contempt.

So why had he not calmed? Perhaps he had always been angry. He thought he could vaguely remember seems from his early childhood, when he had laughed and played and never lost his temper, but he increasingly doubted the authenticity of these memories.

In the end, he came to a conclusion that it was this: for three years he had thought this return to contentment would be enough. That he would be happy again if he were content.

In fact he was certain he would be. Contentment was like peering through a gap in a brick wall. He could see it, almost reach through and touch it, but it never got any closer.

But there must be a way! He hadn't found it yet. But he was at home; his honor fulfilled, loved and respected, a stronger firebender than ever before. Yet he was even further from contentment, so…

What was he looking for?

The group camped just before dusk set in.

A small village had been spotted, and since they were in need of supplies they had landed some distance away, next to a fast-flowing stream where Appa was concealed by a steep gravely slope in the land. Overall, it was a dip between several hills.

The journey had been made in silence, but strangely everyone seemed to have quickly thought of something to say, and were on the verge of saying it, but never summoned the resolve to shatter the silence. The tension had remained somewhat, and no one was looking for another argument.

The remainder of the supplies, and the rest of the equipment, were unloaded in silence as well, but with a kind of disciplinary efficiency so that it was completed faster than normal. Just as well.

With the camp ready all but Aang dispersed, going up or down stream, seeking a solitary place to think away from others. Soon everyone was out of site, except Lu, who remained nearby to shave.

Aang sighed deeply as he stripped down and stepped into the stream. Lu listened but didn't look round to read an expression. There was no need. Aang wasn't stupid- he knew what the question would be, and he also knew the only sensible answer as well.

He ran the shaving knife up his chin, removing the short hairs, then dipped it back into the water, which was turning red as the blood washed off Aang's body.

Useful, thought Lu with an inward smile, very useful.

By the time the water was clean enough for him to finish, Aang was fully dressed and back by the small fire Lu had started. It was getting dark, and the familiar Fire Nation gale was beginning to blow, foretelling a new night.

He went and sat next to him. There was no reluctance; Lu had never had trouble with conversation, and besides, he knew what the outcome would be.

Aang noted his approach out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing, stretching his hands out to the fire.

Lu paused, rubbing his newly shaved chin, then spoke up, "You need to learn firebending."

"I said I wouldn't. I hurt Katara last time." His response was heartfelt, but they both knew it was also a feeble excuse. Aang started to pick at the grass and refused to meet Lu's gaze.

"You know it's important, Aang."

Aang nodded, but was still reluctant to accept a truth that was so hurtful to him.

For a moment, Lu experienced a flicker of annoyance. This was the Avatar! To learn the four elements was part of his duty. That should be reason enough to override anything else, regardless of circumstance. But he suppressed it quickly, not wishing it to show in his face.

"Do you know why?"

Another sad bob of the head.

Lu leaned back, reading to deliver the final push. "The move I did today, against Combustion Man, was a firebending move. I invented it myself for just such an occasion. You are the Avatar, Aang. You know you should learn it. Combustion man will not give up. You must be brave enough to forget the error of the past- so distant, now- and move on. One mistake should not determine your future on this matter. Learn it."

He concluded without harshness of tone; there was no need to. Aang had accepted that the moment they landed.

"Ok," he said finally. "I'll learn."

"Good!" Lu clapped Aang's back gently, a move which he later decided was rather unnecessary. "We'll start tomorrow. Rest now, I'll take watch."

This was the only thing that surprised him that night. That there was no argument over his taking the whole second night's watch, for the second night in a row.

The rest of the group began to trickle in slowly after that. Katara first, looking cleaner and less stressed. She nodded at him silently then lay down near Aang and slept. Toph came a little later, unusually quiet. It wasn't clear that she knew Lu was there- he always became very still on watch- but she detected Katara and Aang by the rise and fall of their chests, and went to sleep nearby.

Sokka, however, did not appear for another half an hour, which annoyed Lu because he was being delayed. He rubbed his tired, rimmed eyes, knowing he would not be able to say awake for another full night tomorrow.

At that moment he heard Sokka's steady footfalls from upstream. He turned on his seat near the sleeping Appa and nodded to him. Sokka returned the gesture but said nothing. The air of tension which had passed from the others still hung around him.

He was halfway to his sleeping bag when Lu said, "you spoke well today, Sokka."

"I caused an argument," said Sokka wearily.

Lu frowned, "it was necessary. Really." He hushed his voice to avoid waking the others, and Sokka walked up to him. "All that you said was true, and relevant. I have only been here two days- I don't pretend that my knowledge is extensive- but I don't think you and I are the only ones who fully comprehend the importance of what we do. You were very brave to speak up."

"I don't feel brave for it."

"_Courage is the greatest virtue of the mind, next to honor," _Lu quoted, "there are many forms of courage. Not all of them make us feel good for ourselves, but duty demands it of us. If you had not said it, your friends-"

"And yours…"

"-Aye, and my friends, would never have learned. You did the right thing, however it made you feel. Trust in yourself, Sokka, when you know you must speak up- you are wiser than you know."

"I don't like offending them like that."

"No-one would do, Sokka, and as a good person of course you feel guilt. But that is an emotion we must carry as a burden."

"In all seriousness, Sokka, I wish to tell you this. You may believe it, you may not, but it must be said. From what I have seen, you are the bravest of us here. Braver than Toph, who threw herself into battle today without a thought of her safety. Braver than Katara, who you know best of all can be so bold. Braver even than Aang, who I know fights an eternal battle with his inner fears and doubts and hesitations. And braver than me, Sokka. If you can accept that, you may discover more about yourself, and what you are capable of."

There was a long moment of pause. Sokka was trying to act unconvinced, but Lu easily picked up the slightly childish sparkle in his eyes. The tension had lifted.

"Thanks, Lu Ten. You are very wise."

Lu nodded an approval, and watched as Sokka lay down near the others to rest.

It was later than he had hoped. No time to waste. For the second day in a row, he stole off into the night.

**End of Chapter 6**

**I hope things are still interesting on the reading end, I'm trying to make them so but if things are slowing down I think there'll be a big turn of events in the next chapter. Keeping reading and reviewing. **


	7. Momo's discovery

**After this chapter I'll probably start to update slower, since the Christmas holidays are over and I'm bound to be loaded with homework. **

**First chapter, and hopefully last, where I'm going to be using an animal's P.O.V. I know, it's stupid, but it seemed better than just switching to Lu's P.O.V. again. You'll see why when you read. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

Momo the lemur was not an intelligent creature. A year with Monk and the group had taught him to understand most of human-speak, but that didn't make him intelligent. But of the limited things he could comprehend, he could comprehend patterns.

And every night he saw one. One of Monk's friends, Blind One, or Meat-Lover, would wait near the camp while the others slept, watching for any sign of trouble. Later during the night, while he was foraging (for lemurs, were, in fact, nocturnal, and he often napped while they flew on Appa), he would watch as someone else was woken, who would then take the place of the last.

The last two nights, however, destroyed that pattern completely. The newcomer, Lu, who Momo personally thought of as Mentor, had been a strange enough change of circumstance. But most puzzling had been his disappearance last night while he was watching.

And tonight, Momo watched from a twisted branch as he disappeared again, headed for the nearby settlement. It was indeed a mystery- but not for much longer. If he intended to set this up as a pattern, Momo wished to know what it was about.

He followed.

Mentor was moving with surprising pace, but Momo knew he didn't have the concentration to ponder why he should need to. Following from the tree line of the small forest that stretched off round the east of the Village, the lemur observed him reach the first line of buildings. Judging that he wasn't looking, he threw out his wings and swooped nimbly to the roof of the closest house.

His mind was just beginning to wonder about the comfort of a home between the simple tiles when he heard voices below. Swiftly remembering his objective, he snuck down and peeked over the side.

Mentor was just visible from the angle, standing in a doorway, his face flickering in the light of a torch in a stand. He was talking, casually, with someone in the threshold. Momo quickly tuned his ears into human-speak and tried to make out the gist of the conversation. As usual, he blanked out any words he didn't understand.

The unknown person spoke first, a deep, throaty voice.

"When you said you could … my attacks, I hadn't betted on … them. Lucky I move fast for my size."

"Lucky you also had the brains to get out of there."

"Any new …?"

Mentor handed over a sealed parchment. Momo's large eyes watched as the waxy paper disappeared behind the angle of the roof.

Mentor spoke, "we'll be staying here for some time, though, so don't move on until the second day."

He leaned forward then, his face disappearing from view, and what he said next was too quiet to make out. Momo just caught,

"…Two plans… one now… one …"

"You are sure they… What about …"

"They'll work."

The final phrase was spoken more loudly, and Mentor leaned back into the torch's pale luminescence.

Finally, the throaty voice restarted.

" How much do they … Are they at all …"

Mentor laughed, but didn't seem happy. Curious, Momo thought. He then realized he had missed the first half of Mentor's words and quickly tuned himself back in.

"… Sokka is a dolt. Aang … Katara is too busy … the group to worry about me. And Toph is just …"

This didn't sound good, the lemur thought. Mentor had paused, but swiftly continued,

"They don't really … to … their …"

The succession of long words made Momo's head spin but he forced himself to focus. The other man was talking.

"Sound as though you are enjoying this."

"No."

Mentor sounded angry at this statement, and his words were more of a hiss, which made them difficult to understand.

"I've always… a killer … but … doesn't rest well with me. I never said I … it. It is duty. Duty is above … else. Personal … is not an excuse."

The throaty voice didn't sound as though it cared for an argument.

"Ok. But you are sure Aang will be here."

The sound of Monk's real name threw every fiber of the little lemur's existence into chaos, so that he missed completely Mentor's final words completely.

He wasn't even aware that the conversation was over, and Mentor, his heavy traveling cloak gathered around him, was gliding smoothly back through the darkness to the camp.

**End of chapter 6 **

**My chapters seem to be getting progressively shorter! No matter… Next chapter will be longer. R&R. **


	8. Training and trial

**A serious event in this chapter- finally! One day I'll learn how to make every chapter as interesting as the next. **

**R&R. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

Next day was just as Lu Ten had expected. Everything had returned to normal with blatant predictability. Or, almost everything had. Lu knew Sokka hadn't forgotten.

As for everyone else, the events of yesterday could never have happened. Everyone was nice enough to one another as they went about their various chores.

And Aang, who just yesterday had seemed so reluctant, followed Lu quite willingly to the training ground he had selected, a small clearing in the forest to their left.

Most obvious of all, for the second day running, no one knew of his disappearance during the night. In their minds, he had never left.

Momo the lemur seemed happy to be in the forest, but the fact that it kept coming back to Aang, swooping in and making him giggle, or crawling over his shoulders, was extremely annoying.

Lu decided it was a diversion that coupled with Aang's none too incredible attention span. The fact that he couldn't focus on what he considered saving the world was almost insulting.

Still, he was likeable, that was impossible to deny, and Lu couldn't help but feel friendly towards him.

The clearing was centered where the stream was joined by a smaller tributary, and soon became large enough and deep enough to swim in. Lu glanced up at the sun. Three hours until noon, he decided. That would suffice. Then he would sleep.

"Ok," Lu said aloud, more by accident, but it seemed to begin the lesson, and from that point on Lu was confident in his ability to teach.

Aang took off his shirt and adopted a stance while Lu looked paced, deciding how to begin.

"Widen your stance."

"You didn't even look!"

"_Everyone _makes that mistake."

Finally, his mind swiftly decided, he did turn to look.

Jeong-Jeong was a fine teacher.

Lu went and stood beside him, and began talking Aang through the steps.

"You're right-handed? Yes? This move is simple, but masters still use it all the time. As your step in with your right foot, turn your hips-"

"Wait." Aang, who had been following the moves, abruptly stopped. "Shouldn't I be practicing breathing, or…stopping a leaf from burning… before we start with real fire."

Lu dropped the stance and looked at Aang. "If we had five years, then yes. As it is, you have _less than _(Aang blushed at the implied accusation) three weeks to learn a highly advanced, experimental firebending technique."

Aang seemed satisfied with this- in fact relieved- and took up the stance again, unintentionally placing his stance too narrow.

Lu ignored it and showed him through the moves, finishing by throwing a compressed ball of fire into the stream.

Aang copied the action- the ground ripped up in a fierce curving spike, like a wave on land.

Lu identified the problem immediately, "Aang, you're trying to learn as you did with the other elements. Remember,

Firebending is the only element that comes from an _internal_ source. You can't focus on something in the outside world. It must come from within."

Aang nodded, but didn't seem exactly certain how to go about it.

Lu decided to add, "Remember, in firebending internal emotion is more important than any stance or form. It needn't be rage, as ignorant earthbenders believe. But it must be passion."

Aang's was a doubt wholly misplaced. By the third try he was generating fire. By the tenth he could create the spheres as large as Lu did.

Within an hour they were sparring. It wasn't an excellent spar, of course- Lu rarely attacked back for fear of the trees, and sometimes he had to move _into_ one of Aang's attacks to prevent a roaring inferno.

But it was good- it was fun. Aang enjoyed it so much that soon Lu was enjoying it as well, and they were trading sarcastic remarks as well as globes of fire.

"Keep you arms where you want them, Aang. Where you put your fist is where the fire will head."

Aang's shots were veering increasingly off target. Lu could see what was happening before it did-

A fireball from Aang missed wildly- so wild that Lu couldn't block it- and struck against a tree.

The fragile leaves, parched from the heat of the sun, burst into flames. Aang stopped and paled. Soon two trees were alight.

"Lu, put it out!"

"It can't be done, Aang!"

"What! Why not?"

Aang couldn't believe Lu wouldn't help him. He panicked momentarily, but then his instinct took over and he bent a massive wave from the stream, bringing it crashing down over the burning trees.

There was a baleful hiss. Aang repeated the action again and again, pounding the water against the trees until not a spark remained. Finally he sat down, breathless.

Lu came and sat next to him. Aang wrapped his arms round his knees. "Why didn't you help?"

Lu took a breath, "I'll teach you something."

He summoned a tiny globe of fire that hung in his palm like a lantern flame.

Aang sat motionless.

"As firebenders, we can summon the energy from our cores and create fire, and we can manipulate it.

But nothing in this world can be absolutely destroyed. Take a rock."

Lu picked up a pebble and threw it to Aang, who caught it with bending.

"You can grind it away to sand and shingle if you wish." Aang copied the action as he said it.

"But you can never destroy the pebble. You have just changed it. As sand, it remains. The same is true of fire. Especially of fire. Fire, once born, has its own existence. A good firebender knows and understands this- for him there are no take-backs or second chances.

You can scatter the fire into the air, if you are skilled enough, but only a master can take a blaze he has created and recall such a living energy to his core. But not a single firebender alive can physically eradicate a fire, from a conflagration to a spark in a hearth. Remember that whenever you firebend."

Lu stood on these last words, and made swiftly back to camp.

Aang, who seemed to be mulling these words over, only noticed a few moments later.

"Where are you going?" he called after him.

"Into the village, for supplies and a long rest. Expect me back by dusk."

And Lu was very happy that he would finally be able to rest. A bed in an inn was music to his ears, and honey on his tongue.

Aang considered trying some more firebending, but without Lu he quickly dismissed the idea. He swam for some time in the stream (which was quite a bit shallower than when they had begun the session), then convinced Katara to practice some waterbending with him (which reduced the stream's depth even more).

Not long after Toph dragged him none too gently into a new earthbending technique, which she demonstrated painfully on him several times.

After they had eaten the remainder of their provisions he tried to convince Sokka to join in with him for another swim, but the warrior seemed strangely brooding. In fact, Aang couldn't recall him moving at all that day. Strange.

But time was dragging on, and Aang was beginning to get nervous. Everyone assured him that Lu was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but dusk was come and going and Lu didn't seem like a man who would miss his own deadline.

Finally, with just a quarter of the sun leaning over the horizon, e declared, "I'm just going to go into the village to look for Lu."

"I'll come with you, Aang," said Katara agreeably, but Aang refused.

"There's no need for us all to go. We need to load Appa for when Lu gets back."

"You sure you're ok by yourself," put in Sokka.

Aang felt a little insulted that he didn't believe him capable of walking a mile into a small village by himself.

"Of course I'll be ok."

And he made off before anyone else could raise any protest.

It was a lazy little village, and Aang took an immediate liking to it.

It was small, perhaps thirty small thatch-and-timber homes, with only two inns, no large buildings or constructions whatsoever. It had nothing to boast about. But it had been built with care and attention, each plank carved to fit against another to create sturdy, strong homes.

The whole effect was far more welcoming than the rickety, thrown-together huts and dwellings of the expanding towns, and it lifted Aang's mood.

As he walked he thought of his second ever firebending lesson. Lu had been great to work with, and skipping over the monotonous breathing techniques had been a great relief.

Lu Ten is a better teacher than Jeong-Jeong was, he decided happily. Then he remembered that Jeong-Jeong was dead, and quickly averted his thoughts.

He visited the first inn and asked about his new teacher, but they had not seen anyone of the like.

Doubts began to creep in. Aang quickly banished those thoughts. No, he decided confidently, Lu wouldn't abandon us.

The second inn was even more pleasant than the first- nothing like the taverns Aang had heard about but never been in, where there was never less than one fight going on at any one time, and everyone was prone to flying into a rage at the drop of a hat.

It was a two-storey building, as affectionately constructed as the others.

The lower room was the bar. Two long tables ran crossways across the room, crowded with men who all looked just a little drunk. There was a large fire burning in the hearth on the left side. Not a single punch-up in sight.

People looked up as Aang came in, evidently a little surprised to find a twelve-year-old in a bar, but no one felt any need or obligation to be suspicious.

At the bar, Aang managed to get the attention of the landlord, who was cleaning mugs.

Aang started noticeably when the man turned, revealing a tremendous growth on the front of his nose, fully equipped with several long black hairs.

"You looking at my nose," he said gruffly.

Aang couldn't help himself, "Well… yes!"

The man glared down at him over the bar, his right eye seeming much more protruding than his left, and for a moment Aang thought he'd made a bad mistake.

All at once, the landlord burst into hysteric laughter.

Aang started again at the action. The man clutched his stomach, red in the face, laughing with ridiculous exaggeration. Aang started to giggle nervously himself. Several others behind him were sniggering as well.

Finally the man calmed, pronouncing a few final laughs as though it really weren't that funny, and spoke in a gruff but friendly voice.

"What can I do you for, son? Don't go too hard on yourself. I don't expect you can take too much!"

Aang, who had been about to speak, had to stop and giggle again as the man once again burst into manic cackling, causing several others to join in as well. But there was no malice in it, so Aang was happy to wait and be laughed at.

Finally he got the chance to say, "I'm looking for a friend of mine named Lu Ten."

"Oh. Well o' course you are," replied the man, as though he had known it all along. Pulling to him a very large, tattered brown book that Aang decided was far too heavy to be lifted by one man, he flicked through the pages and peered at the notes so closely that the hairs on his growth tickled the paper.

Finally he concluded, "up the stairs, the door straight ahead of you."

Relief flooded through him. Aang hadn't realized he could get so worried about it. Of course he would be here!

He went up the stairs, which turned in a half spiral, with a spring in his step. There were five doors, two on each side of the narrow corridor, and one at the end.

He went quickly up to it, knocked, and turned the knob before a response could have been made to the knocking.

And was met with a blinding, deafening explosion.

**End of Chapter 8**

**R&R.**


	9. At Ozai's Court

**Everyone remember to R&R.**

**Some action in this one, and Zuko's messing about again. It feels like weak writing to suddenly include him at the vital moment, but I can't think what else he can do while he stays at home! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

Zuko watched the last of the aged generals file out from the grand hall, leaving behind what would most likely be the last war council ever to be held. The Earth Kingdom no longer existed- there was no one left to fight.

When they had left, he went to stand before the great throne of his father, which looked just as great and powerful as ever, before its swathe of flame.

But as he did so, they quickly died down, and tall form of Lord Ozai, emperor of the Fire Nation, slid off the throne and walked to his son, appearing mortal once more.

"You wished to see me." As always, Ozai refused to phrase anything as a question, yet the words were less cold and sharp than they had been with the generals. Zuko felt a glimmer of reassurance at this, but it did nothing for the tumult of secret, confused rage inside.

Ozai waited, oblivious. Zuko took a deep breath.

"I didn't kill the Avatar."

Ozai smiled. It was quite an unexpected move, and Zuko was thrown off-balance. He simply stood, waiting for explanation. Finally Ozai said,

"I know. I have done for some time."

"What? How could you have known?"

"It is a king's duty to know things."

Zuko's already pondering mind was reeling. This meant…

"But then… why did you allow me back?"

Again Ozai smiled- that very same smile of silent, effortless triumph that fit him greater than anything else.

"You have been gone three years Zuko." His words seemed well prepared. "When you left, at 14, you were a boy. You return a man, fit to inherit the great kingdom I have conquered for you."

"But.. But I did not capture the Avatar!" Zuko stammered.

"Neither did you ever need to!" replied Ozai, an edge of natural sharpness returning to his voice, "The Avatar and his band of children were never a threat to something as great as my conquest. But to you, they were a noble objective. And you proved that you would fight until whatever end to regain your honor. That is proof enough of your worth, for me."

Zuko paused for a moment, his father's satisfaction with his own skill pressing against him. He struggled to think through it.

Finally his thoughts overtook him.

"But if you knew he is not dead, then… you know he is still out there."

"Indeed I do. As I said, he is no threat."

"He has run through our land like a whirlwind, father! He destroyed an entire fleet at the North Pole. Five thousand sailors dead in an instant. How can you say he is not threat?!"

"No challenge. Like spitting at a storm. He can never truly stand against us."

"But he could be _anywhere!_ Inside the city itself!" Zuko lowered his voice to go on, for Firebenders spoke of it like a blight, but he could no longer restrain his temper.

"The Eclipse is coming, father- just more than two weeks. If they know it they will be basing their entire plan of attack around it. You could be killed!"

"And then you will take my place! An Empire does not fall with the death of one man!

Besides, this is immaterial. Their attack will fail. All that could happened has been planned for."

Zuko stood stock still, suddenly grasping his father's twisted scheme.

"You intend to lure him _here!" _

"Yes. He cannot defeat us. I have it planned. Trust me, Zuko."

"Why must you risk everything?"

"This final move is important. If the Avatar grows he will be the last thorn in the lion's paw. Trust me." He repeated. Then he gave that same triumphant grin, as though pre-empting the outcome. "When you see how perfect our conquest is, you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky."

There was nothing more to be said. Zuko was still, utterly still, his mind reeling with all that he had just heard. It seemed Ozai knew more than he would admit, even to his own son.

What could that mean?

Without another word, Zuko spun on his heel and walked slowly away. He held himself straight, his head high, and every step became easier than the last.

Keep going, he told himself. You needn't stay here. You only anger yourself.

And if only he could have left.

Just a foot from the great cast iron doors, Ozai's voice roared out,

"Why have you come to see me, Zuko?!"

The powerful voice, the embodiment of all the Fire Nation, reverberated up and along and in all directions, filling every inch of the hall to the tiniest space.

Zuko had no answer.

"Come, now!" the powerful voice continued, "you are not here merely to speak the truth!"

Zuko half turned, but still could not speak. He could see no reasonable answer, only that he had needed to speak, and speak he had.

But the powerful voice was not through.

"You cannot keep secrets from me, Zuko. You fail me by doing so! You had another reason for being here!"

And with powerful force, Zuko knew what he had come to ask. He saw himself move through the dialogue all again, but knowing that he had missed out those words seemed the actions of an absolute fool. He couldn't believe it!

He turned swiftly away, Ozai's mighty voice silent now. And as he passed through the door, his eyes met with Azula's, that fearsome sister, who seemed to be waiting her turn in a fit of smugness.

For a moment only, Aang knew again the very boundary of pain, in as great a form as could be comprehended. In that single split second, he died in his mind a thousand times from the sheer, endless pain that extended to fill every nook and cranny into infinitum.

Then he was soaring, sailing, and everything swamped him. He hit the ground, hard, rolling with brutal energy, before hitting the top stair and slipping once more, meeting every step with punishing speed, before cracking his head on the floor below.

Several paces from the stairs and not knowing how he had moved, he lay blinded, stunned, and deafened.

No more than a second after ward, the door came spinning down the stairs in pursuit, moving at ludicrous speed, hitting the floor like a butcher's cleaver just inches from where he lay.

Silence.

He felt his left side. Tongues of fire lashed him and he cried out, from both the searing pain in his ribs and the sheer effort of forcing movement.

Someone grabbed him and hauled him up- the hand picked him up by his left side and he screamed. But the steady hands of a man supported him, taking his full weight. He looked up but the action made the world rattle and cavort and he dropped his gaze again.

Then came the steady pounding. Bump… Bump… Bump, like a demon trapped beneath the floorboards themselves. And to Aang it may as well have been, for the steady bump, bump could only be metal on wooden stairs.

**The Zuko section was longer than I had expected, so I'm afraid I missed more than I would have liked. But hopefully I'll be able to update over the weekend. **

**Please R&R.**


	10. Melee

**OK, so I didn't update as early as I would have liked, but that's partly because no one reviewed! Come on, seriously try and update for each chapter. I don't care how long the review is- I just wanna know who has read and who hasn't. **

**Leaving right off from last time, and there's an unexpected savior…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: the Last Airbender. **

For Aang, that muscled figure could not have been more frightening- if the devil's aide himself had been right there, Aang would rather have gazed into whatever cold black eyes he possessed, than face him.

Combustion man descended with easy slowness. The battle was over. Aang, still leaning partially in the man's grip, decided suddenly that the name didn't even hint at his destructive capacity. He was a hell-spawn, and no less.

Smoothly and calmly, he walked over to him until he stood right before him. The bar was filled with silence. No one dared move, save for the man who held Aang upright. Evidently he felt the same fear, and backed away, leaving Aang barely standing.

His fist suddenly flashed up, burying itself in Aang's stomach. He screamed and doubled over: right into a blow to the face, which crashed him against the bar. He lay there, dazed and stunned, and new waves of pain assailed him. He groaned softly.

Combustion Man turned smoothly and addressed the silent tables. "I suggest you get out. Anyone still in here when I'm not will be buried in the rubble." He pointed an easy finger, "and no-one is to move him. He dies here."

There was a sudden smash. Not hard or heavy, but almost an elegant noise. A smashed bottle.

Combustion Man turned, barely phased, slivers of glass trickling off his shoulders.

Behind him, nostrils and mole hair flared, stood the landlord. Combustion man had time for one glance of utter contempt- then the landlord was upon him.

His fists rained down in all directions as he attempted to pound every fiber of the huge man into powder, and roaring as he did so.

"Think you're funny! Bastard.. Think… you can hurt… defenseless kids… in my pub! Bastard… I'm going to have you! Think… you can destroy… my pub, don't you! Think… you're that good! _Bastard!" _

There was a brief struggle; Combustion man, bringing his full strength to bear, easily heaved the big landlord off him. But he was quickly replaced by a tall, lanky man who had rushed over to help. And another man. And another.

In seconds half the pub seemed to be upon him, all kicking and hitting an shoving to get near to him, and him standing amongst them and shaking them off, like fleas off a lion. His fist flashing out, he broke someone's jaw, then swung his elbows savagely. The crowd went out, then came back in like the tide.

Aang was coming to. His vision was still blurred, and every inch of him was fiercely painful. The left side of his chest felt especially tender, and he wondered if he would be able to walk.

Just as he considered this two men made over to him and lifted him, thankfully avoiding his left.

Between them they hauled him off the ground and rushed past the melee, out into the street, where they deposited him by the door.

One of them whispered some encouraging words, but he was too weak to reply. He lay there. His instinct told him to help, but he couldn't think of anything. Literally anything; his mind just swamped and bubbled every time he tried to focus.

He thought of the violent melee he had seen just seconds before, but the fierce pumping of his adrenaline was not only taking away the pain- he could barely picture the scene.

He was absolutely torn. Thoughts flashed into his mind then left just as quickly, unable to brave the tumult; he thought of the fight- surely that many can handle him- and of himself, and Katara, and what was happening. And Katara once more. Why Katara! It was a foolish question, even on the brink of delirium.

With considerable effort, he staggered up, leaning on the wall. _Must decide what to do,_ he told himself, over and over. But he couldn't decide. To go in was surely to call for death. He had to decide! But what could he do?

He moved his left arm. The pain was excruciating, and the right arm was almost as bad.

What can I do?!

He decided. It was not a pleasant decision. He regretted every second of its undertaking. He thought of "greater good," but it was little consolation. It was an excuse, he decided. He had been looking for an excuse to do as he did.

To stagger away feebly, into the woods and into the night, just as, unbeknown to him, Lu Ten had done twice before.

**So I hope this story is still mildly interesting. If it isn't… review and tell me! But please review. Please. I'll be happy. **


	11. Better than perfection

**Okay, I've just got to complain about the number of reviews people are giving me- almost none. Come on, guys! I know you're out there somewhere, so why aren't you reviewing?! I might actually discontinue this story if nobody's goanna be bothered to review. **

**(To himself) I'm actually flaming my readers. I have sunk to an all-time low.**

**Also, first time we're going to see some romance during this chapter. Katara and Aang. But I'm not including any make-out sessions or anything in this story, so too bad. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

Aang staggered. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He blinked it away furiously, but his blurred vision didn't change.

He staggered again, this time almost falling. If he fell now, he knew he'd never get up.

He couldn't imagine how long he had been walking like this. Darkness was everywhere, and the howling winds blasted all other senses into submission. All but pain.

The wound was more fiercely painful than anything he could remember; it never faltered or gave, never lost any ground. It was just an endless, driving, stabbing pain that leeched him of everything to the bone. Every step was a colossal effort, requiring him to focus every ounce of his existence to complete, and in this way he had lost any and all track of time.

But he knew he was leaving a trail a blind man could follow. A trail of blood. Why couldn't he stop bleeding?

It was a ridiculous question even to ask to himself, and he almost laughed. But the pain and the effort were too great.

Everything clung to him with sweat and blood- his hair, his clothes. He wished he could pull off the blood-drenched shirt, but he feared that if he stopped moving he wouldn't be able to start again. And he daren't touch the wound.

Everything exploded suddenly in a wide, giddying motion. A tree branch beneath him caught him like a snare and he hit the ground hard.

Now he knew he would die. It was useless. He could barely move.

The packed earth was surprisingly comfortable. The wind's incessant howl seemed suddenly distant and ethereal. Even the pain was receding.

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps he was recovering. But the ground was soft like satin.

Yes, he decided, I will find my friends, and Appa, and Momo, and then everything will be better again. But first I'll sleep. Just ten minutes…

_The sky was brighter than he remembered. So were the clouds. And the grass. Not only that, but the wind was fresher, the earth softer, the flowers more beautiful. Everything was more perfect. _

_He was sitting, his back against a rock. Every ache and pain was gone. Utterly. He could barely remember their sensations, only that they existed in a place far away. _

_The wound was still there, and the congealed blood, but it was all the less gruesome than it should have been. He thankfully pulled off his shirt. Not a whisper of pain. The wind felt as though it played intentionally with his clean skin. _

_He could almost have stayed there forever, right there against that very rock. _

"_Banana juice?" _

_He was not startled; indeed, he had always known it was coming. Just known. _

_Guru Pathik squatted next to him. He was not nearly so old as Aang could have believed. His skin was firm and supple, his hair a fluorescent blond. If he were the keeper of this place, Aang thought, the flowers themselves would praise the idea. _

"_Hello Aang. We haven't seen each-other for some time." _

_He held the banana juice out again. Aang wasn't thirsty- he couldn't quite remember thirst- but he took it instinctively and drank. _

_It was all he could have wanted. _

_He turned to look directly at the young Guru. He couldn't help but smile. _

" _Guru Pathik, are we dead?" _

"_No, but I fear we are both close to it." he chuckled, "if for different reasons." _

"_Then… will I be here forever." _

"_You could be, if you choose it." _

"_It is wonderful." _

_Pathik nodded gently. _

_They sat for many hours in silence. What else could they need? Everything anyone could search for existed in harmony around them, for no one but them. _

_Over this time he became faintly aware of his name being called. He realized with mild amusement that had it not been for this, he would have forgotten he was called Aang altogether. _

_It was a girl's voice. She seemed almost frightened. He looked around occasionally, but there was nothing other than where he was, and the endless verdant grass. _

_Finally he asked Pathik, "who is that, calling." _

"_Her name is Katara. She calls to you from the other side." _

_Katara. _

_Such a name. _

"_Can't she come to us?" _

"_No, I am afraid not."_

"_Then I must go to her." _

_He found a few tears rolling down his cheeks, for even as he spoke the verdant green grass withered to stunted stalks and broken earth._

"_Why would you leave? There is everything here."_

"_There is no Katara." _

_He stood up, and beneath his feet was nothing but dusty red soil. _

_There was a brilliant light. _

_Avatar Roku stood before him, bathed in impossible majesty. _

_Aang looked directly into it, and saw the universe. _

"_Look Aang," said Roku comfortingly. "The other Avatars have come to meet you." _

_And with a sweep of the hand, he diverted Aang's gaze to the sky. _

_It glowed with tranquil eternity. And amongst the fine glowing light, a thousand Avatars or more stood about- all draped in glory, shining like stars, filled with unfathomable wisdom and perfection. _

_There was nothing to rival it. It was beyond any mortal concept. Aang was struck with undisguised wonder, as he lost himself in the flawless quality. Nothing could equal it. Save Katara. _

_Roku was behind him now, leading him gently by a hand on the shoulder. A staircase lay before them to take them there. Every step was a step closer to paradise. Without Katara. _

_Aang, overrun with tears, suddenly stopped and struggled. _

_Roku looked unfathomably hurt "why do you resist. This is a better place." _

"_I need to see Katara!" _

"_She is gone, Aang. You cannot see her again. _

_Aang was absolutely overcome with living, breathing emotion. He was shaking and sobbing as Roku led him ever so gently up the staircase. _

_Twice more he stopped; twice more the perfect beauty of the Avatars, like guiding beacons, called him back. _

_But every step was a step away from Katara. _

_On the final step, with all the shining glory before him, he turned for a third time, and shook Roku's hand away. _

"_Why do you hate perfection, Aang? Why do you hate eternity?" _

"_Because," said Aang, his heels on the edge of the step, "An eternity without Katara would be an eternity wasted." _

_And he stepped back, and watched the Avatars fade away into oblivion, and finally felt the sharp and jagged return of human consciousness. _

_Caught between life and death, his mind screamed. _

Aang awoke- or partially awoke- to the steady swaying sensation of being carried.

"I still don't think you should be carrying him with those wounds."

It was Katara's voice- Aang felt as though every syllable breathed new life into him.

"Yeah, he's lost a lot of blood," Toph chuckled, "If you drop him, which I expect you will, he might never recover."

"Easy for you lot to say," Sokka grumbled, "but you're not carrying him. He may not look heavy, but I'm starting to understand how Appa feels all the time."

"If your great muscles are waning," Lu put in, "I would be happy to carry him for a bit, so you can recover."

"No, no" Sokka insisted, making Aang feel a little unstable, "I got him."

There was a general laugh of good humor- Aang fervently hoped that it sprung from their relief that he had survived.

**Come to think of it, I don't think that was that good… **

**R&R. **


	12. Brief respite

**Everyone keep reviewing. So sorry for not updating for ages. It's school, I swear. **

**Is Zuko the younger sibling?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

Unnoticed, for he had been very still, Aang slipped back into unconsciousness.

Several times he awoke when Sokka tripped or grumbled loudly: at least he partially awoke, so that he hovered on that cusp between sleep and semi-consciousness, wherein it is possible within a heartbeat to just fall back to sleep again. And Aang, whose whole body ached, welcomed this relief, sure of his security with so many friends around him.

This time there were no dreams.

"He lied to you."

"You lie! Why should I believe you now, Azula? You have always been a liar."

"He will not give you the throne. You have failed him!"

"Shut up! Why do you insist on tormenting me with your false tongue?"

"I do not lie about this, little brother. You have always been second best, and until now Father has done nothing to conceal this. Why should it have changed?"

After some hours of dosing to recover his strength, and with the increasing fear that Sokka would surely drop him at any moment, Aang managed to groan.

There was an ecstasy of movement and scrabbling, as his four companions all gave each other conflicting commands and staggered in random and opposite directions.

Their concern touched him.

Finally he was laid down with his head against a rock; several snappy words from Katara and Sokka put one of the bags behind his head as a cushion.

Katara all but threw herself down beside him, leaned on him to lean closer, reconsidered and leaned back. Finally she contented herself with sitting back and looking at him with a very maternal expression. There was concern etched into her features.

He nodded a response, just to confirm his consciousness, and she looked relieved.

"Did... Did I miss anything?"

She touched his right arm affectionately, "How are you feeling?"

"Wonderful. How long was I out?"

And that moment Toph knelt by his other side. "Still with us, Twinkle toes?" she said, struggling to keep the excitement from her voice.

She punched his left arm, making him gasp. The move didn't seem to affect her enthusiasm.

"No less tender for the experience, I see!"

"Leave him alone, Toph! He was badly injured!"

"But he's alright _now_!"

"Where's Lu… And Appa and Momo?" Aang asked, barely able to raise his voice to the point where it could be heard over theirs.

"Stay still," said Katara soothingly, though he hadn't moved. He was happy to oblige.

Lu came over at just that instant. He seemed deeply satisfied that Aang had survived. Idly he wondered just how close he had been to death as he sat beside Guru Pathik in that faraway meadow…

"Did we have a fire bending accident?"

Lu squatted by his head and glared at him. Aang stared innocently back.

"Now you listen to me," said Lu, half-raising a finger, "That was very, very irresponsible. You could have been killed."

Incredulous, Aang stared back into Lu's gaze, struggling for an apology. But slowly the glare dissolved into a frown; and then a smile; and soon Lu was laughing heartily.

"Ah, you do some stupid things, Aang!"

Laughing with genuine humor, he slapped Aang's shoulder and then his head, and then repeated the action. Within a second Aang was laughing also, then everyone was laughing, channeling their relief into warm good humour until their sides split.

Finally, his left side burning with the exertion, Aang managed to stop himself and lay there gasping.

As they were recovering Katara explained that she had healed him as best she could, but due to the extent of the injury he would still be weak on that side for several days.

Aang, lost in the joy of being around friendly company again, and knowing it would stay that way, barely registered that she was addressing him.

"Aang… you're awake!"

Sokka, clearly the slowest of the group on the uptake, finally made his way over, filling up the last of Aang's personal space.

"You know, I think you've been sneaking extra food, or some of the rice cakes or something. I don't know, but you really could do with losing a little weight, Aang…" Sokka, in the midst of babbling, stopped suddenly, and for a moment he looked so thoughtful, and so struck by inspiration, that he could well have achieved enlightenment.

By degrees, however, the amusing expression dissolved, until it appeared rather that he had remembered something very important. Aang watched him intently waiting for the thought to translate into words, and soon he had drawn the other's line of sight as well. Finally…

"_What were you thinking?_"

The severity in Sokka's voice left Aang a little taken aback, but he had been fooled by a similar ploy just moments before, so he smiled. It was rather a foolish move.

"This isn't funny! You could have been killed! Why didn't you let one of us go with you?"

"It's okay, Sokka, leave him alone," snapped Katara, immediately agitated by her brother.

"No, it's not okay," said Sokka firmly, "Aang, you're the one who's going to save _the world_. You can't keep putting yourself in danger!"

"I didn't know Combustion Man would be there," Aang objected. He immediately regretted arguing. Now Sokka was obliged to continue. And his words were full of meaning.

"_So? _Its your duty to keep out of trouble." Sokka was growing ever more agitated, and Aang was beginning to fervently hope this moment wasn't going to blossom into something more.

"You can't just go wandering around by yourself-"

"Leave him alone!"

"No, Katara! It has to be said. You treat this like a game, Aang. Like it's a joke. You're always stopping to look at animals and have fun. Why?! This isn't funny. If you fail, you are going to let millions of people _die!_"

His last words, true or no, sounded with lethal intent. Aang was shaken, as intended. The silence that pervaded was terrible.

"I- I'm sorry Sokka," Aang managed to stammer, the words tripping over his tongue as he made to continue.

But Katara, noticing his hurt expression, was quick to retort.

"What are you talking about? Aang works harder than all of us! He's doing hours of training a day, and he's fighting _our_ war! He wasn't even born in our damn century!" She stood up as she threw her words. Sokka stayed still, defiant. Aang, caught between them, felt hopelessly like a bystander.

"And besides," she continued, "What exactly do you do around here, _big brother_?"

Her anger had exploded, but this time it wasn't another sibling brawl. This was real.

"What do you do to help?" She continued relentlessly. "You keep telling Aang he's treating this like a joke, but you're basically the self-acknowledged _community jester_! Apart from that, all you do is grumble, complain, and eat the food!"

For a few moments Sokka seemed actually paralyzed. For a moment he was statue-like, then he managed to bite his lip, then run a hand through his hair.

Finally, he spun on his heel and went to join Lu by the roadside the fire bender had slunk off at some point during the argument.

Katara sat down, smoldering with rage and muttering curses. Aang sorely wanted to go and apologize, but couldn't find the strength to stand.

And besides, something told him it wouldn't be enough. It was not a sudden event, out of the blue, but today, in just seconds, something seemed to have changed that Aang feared could never be put right…

**This one may be a bit disjointed because I wrote it in sections. Again, sorry about such a long wait. **

**R&R. **


	13. Slow recovery

**Can I ask- how much time is there supposed to be before the eclipse and the comet? **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

Aang was right. Something had changed, in Sokka most of all. It was almost frightening, that he had become so much more grim. It seemed that everything had came back down upon him, bearing an imaginary severity his memory had conjured, so that every idle joke seemed a taunt, every tease a mockery, every chuckle over his mistakes, a condescendence. 

And, worst of all, he seemed to have developed the idea that in all the times they had ignored his ideas, and laughed at them, or stared him down, they had been secretly smuggling him an unanimous secret- he was redundant. 

They allowed him to stay with them only as an ideal, or an amusement, to keep some sport in the game; for without him, the weak link, their group of bending masters would surely be invincible.

So, silent as he thought they wished him, he became that way, except when occasion demanded. He would talk openly only to Lu Ten- indeed, it was the only time when he seemed his former self. 

Aang awoke often during the night to hear Sokka's voice, eager and enthusiastic, and Lu's wise, knowing words. Then, before the weariness of his recovery forced him to sleep again, he would wonder deeply at what they could possibly be talking about. 

But he did say one thing, before entering into this silent lethargy. And that he said at the first opportunity, when he came upon Toph alone, and, kneeling beside her, had whispered, "One thing worries me. How could Combustion Man have known the village- the exact room- in which Lu would be staying, to set that trap, when Lu himself had told us only just before he left? He couldn't have found out…" 

Toph, half asleep at the time, had only muttered something about how quickly news travelled, and rolled over. Not realising just how crucial Sokka's question was, she overlooked it as everyone else had, and strengthened Sokka's ever-increasing certainty in his own redundancy. 

Aang should have been paying more attention when Katara told him about his wounds. His entire body burned with fatigue, he was breathed in sweat, and moving his left arm through the techniques took agonising effort. 

Three days had passed, and Aang felt less than recovered. But then, he had been eager to get up and start moving, taking Sokka's judgement of him almost as a challenge to be overcome. 

And there was also the single word, symbolic of an event, gradually winding its way to the front of his mind: Eclipse. Two weeks now separated them. 

They had only two day's travel to make to the rendezvous point, but everyone was reluctant to arrive and then wait there. If Combustion Man truly had discovered a way to avoid detection by Toph's earth bending ability, then they were sitting targets in one place. So they had kept constantly on the move. 

The constant movement had sapped even more of Aang's strength. His own vulnerability especially had urged him to resume his training. 

But asking Lu for a fire bending spar was looking more and more like suicide.

Blocking one more fire blast, he called out several times and the barrage ceased. 

He slumped down, exhausted, panting. Lu came over to sit beside him, his eyes, faintly scolding, on the fierce purple bruises still adorning Aang's chest and shoulder. The message was clear: "It was far too early." 

Aang nodded in response to the silent statement, then finally summed the courage to confess his fears. 

"Lu… I'm worried. What if I don't recover in time for the eclipse?" 

"Then we're all going to die," responded Lu savagely. Then he laughed and slapped Aang's stronger shoulder. 

"It won't matter. The firelord can't bend during the eclipse, remember? I'm fairly certain that our female friends… and Sokka… can take on any guards we come across. You need only the strength to fling one fireball, or wand of ice." 

This news much relieved Aang, but the words summoned up Aang's very greatest anxiety, as he thought of a fireball from his own hand, slamming into human flesh, charring, scorching and then the lifeless eyes, staring, accusing. 

He had killed men, which sometimes sickened him, but he had never looked into their eyes as they died. 

"You're developing a sense of sarcasm," Aang observed, averting his thoughts. 

"Yes," said Lu smiling, "Sokka's handiwork, no doubt." 

And for a second they were both able to laugh away their worries and feel content.

That in itself made the moment vaguely unique, and Aang was happy to preserve such an atmosphere. It is impossible to be anxious forever, but Aang knew by now that these rare moments were often the only respite the world allowed. 

It was as they sat, calm, content, that Aang's eyes began to drift. It was not a conscious move, rather it sprang right from his inactivity. Conscious would be his effort to stop it, but the way his gaze locked felt comfortingly natural, as though intended. 

And he didn't mind looking at Katara anyway. Watching her move around the campsite, always doing something. 

It amazed him that she always found something to do. He smiled; or something to snap at them for. 

But, inexplicably, he rather liked it about her… 

Lu had said something, but either Aang hadn't been paying attention or he had just decided to talk very quietly . Assuming it to be the former, Aang tried to focus, but it was hard… 

"She's a good choice." 

"What!" 

Finally Aang had caught the drift of his words. Lu seemed satisfied with himself. 

He leaned back a little.

"But are you sure you will be able to woo her with those ears…" 

"Shut up, Lu!" Aang whispered urgently, clasping his hands over his ears involuntarily. He realised he must be blushing. That Lu could have discovered him so easily was a little humiliating. 

But when he looked in Lu's eyes there was no trace of mockery. 

"You should ask her for a kiss," he said seriously.

Aang couldn't believe how fast he was moving, "But… is now… appropriate… It's so dangerous at the moment."

"_There is wisdom of the head, _Aang_… and wisdom of the heart_. I don't think reason is always the best judge." 

Aang nodded, hugging his knees. The words sat so easily in his mind. 

"This is as good a time as any. Listen…" Lu became very sombre here, and he seemed to be remembering. His gaze flickered upward a little, and for a moment he seemed to be disguising his expression. Then he continued: 

"You shouldn't be ashamed of it. With what is happening now… I believe it's these sort of things that keep us sane… keep us human."

Aang looked away. The words stirred him; inspired him. 

"And I think, if you die or fail in this fool's errand you've set yourself… And it is that… I think you deserve to have known some of the happiness that life in a temple can never grant." 

"But when should I ask her?" 

"Anytime when you are alone. The first opportunity." 

Aang realised he had sobbed once or twice. He had a new-founded respect for Lu; the man's knowledge, and rationality, and reason, seemed to clear his mind for him. It felt good to see things so logically when most often he couldn't. 

"Thank-you, Lu." he said with meaning. "I think I will."

"And remember," concluded Lu, rising, "Fiang's wisest words: _If you find a good wife, you'll be happy. If you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher… And that is a good thing for any man. _Like me. But rest assured, regardless of what Fiang says, you don't want that happening!" 

**I'm a little sorry for suddenly including this romantic element… it's sort of important. I won't be including anything serious, but it does have a part in the end. **

**Lu's first quote in this chapter is by Charles Dickens. The second, rather more humorous one is by Socrates, whose opinion of women is rather low.**

**Remember to read and review. **


	14. Change in the barest second

**This chapter is when things start getting serious. Angst, bloodshed and possibly torture all on the way. Seriously, this could get messy. I suppose I'm about half way through by now. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

"_Hunting?_"

"Yes, that's what I said. Why not?"

Aang had stood, mute.

Looking back on his reaction, he realised he had made a complete fool of himself, and laughed inwardly.

Lu had suggested the idea, and it had gone done with much more enthusiasm than when Sokka had made the proposition almost… what?… six months ago now. It seemed so long…

He didn't approve of it, of course; he ate no meat. But why this had stopped the others from doing so, he didn't really know. No-one had; it had been an unspoken agreement. But when Lu refreshed the suggestion, it became obvious that there was no reason why they shouldn't hunt. An inability to go into large settlements, being constantly on the move, and having a fifth and fully grown addition to the group had put serious strain on their provisions. And with two master benders and a born hunter (at least, Aang _assumed_ Sokka was) it was sure to succeed.

Through and through, it was a great idea.

Aang had stayed at camp, since killing wild animals for sustenance didn't appeal to him. But Katara had insisted she stay as well: Aang was still quite weak from his ordeal and not in excellent condition to defend himself.

She was currently in the wood surrounding the tiny clearing in which they had made camp, collecting kindling, but still well within earshot. Sometimes he could just make out her slender form between the maze of branches and leaves, and then he followed that gently flowing ocean blur until it passed out of sight again…

He took a deep breath, made to stand; didn't; leaned his head back against Appa's flank.

His hair was a little itchy when it mingled with his bison's. He was just remembering how much more comfortable it had been without hair when he realised his mind was wandering again.

When he thought seriously about it (which wasn't often, because of this very problem), it was frustrating that he couldn't seem to focus his mind for a long time. It added to his reputation for slacking off his duties and training, and distracted him when he was trying to concentrate on something important.

Like Katara…

Finally, with monumental effort, he managed to lever himself up. Every nerve screamed at him to abandon this; he had utterly no experience in it, and was sure he would look like a total idiot. He was usually comfortable in her presence, but then he had never asked her for _this_ before. For a kiss…

The thought seemed to shake him physically, filling him with excitement, anxiety, worry.

He managed to walk.

The others had been gone from the camp for just over, Combustion Man guessed, two hours, and he was beginning to become restless. Perched in his concealed hiding place, just out of sight of the clearing, he had barely moved throughout that time.

He could be very silent when he needed to be.

_Toph, who can read the earth, will not be there. You can attack then… _

He repeated the words carefully in his mind, a flicker of irritation crossing his face as he thought of his target.

He was no longer capable, it seemed, of killing children. Now he was reduced to killing mindless animals.

Wait!

A noise. The Avatar was walking, forsaking his usual light-footedness, it appeared from the sound.

Carefully, with inexhaustible patience, he took a first step forward. Then a second. A third.

"Katara."

"What is it Aang?"

"I…"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted…"

"What is it?"

Katara eyed him suspiciously over her bundle of firewood. Her gaze went right through him, scattering his thoughts in every direction, burying his words.

More than a little confused by Aang's behaviour she began to wander away.

The move was enough to jolt Aang's brain back into action, and he hurriedly ran in front of her to meet her gaze again. He immediately regretted the decision as those eyes drilled back into him.

"No," he managed to stammer "this… this is important."

She arched an eyebrow. "If it's so important, why don't you say it."

"It's difficult…"

She carried on walking, bending occasionally to pick up more wood. Admittedly he was beginning to agitate her, which was a shame because she usually loved his company.

They had lost sight of the camp.

Aang let out a tiny, keening whine, completely involuntarily, but managed to stop it almost as it begun. He dearly hoped she hadn't heard it. His feet, normally so agile of their own volition, snagged a branch: Aang stumbled and almost fell. Katara grabbed his sleeve with one hand, which in turn scattered most of her firewood across the ground.

Aang, blushing and humiliated, feeling the clumsiest fool alive, staggered upright and began to help her pick up the wood again.

And it happened. Those scattered, wild, frenzied thoughts all bumping around in his head finally concerted themselves, flooding him, and he spoke his mind in one hurried but assured sentence.

"I want to kiss you!"

She stopped dead.

"I have feelings for you, Katara," his own words added to his confidence, invigorating him, "I think I always have. And to show it, I want to kiss you."

She stared straight ahead. "Oh… well. Well."

He watched her uncertainly. The silence, the emptiness of the passing inaction rushed over him in nauseous torrents. He held his breath. Released it. Held it.

Finally, her mouth opened, but there were no words. She opened her mouth again, refusing to look directly at him.

Finally, putting an end to Aang's all-consuming trepidation, she looked at him just out of the corner of her eye and said, "Aang, we have known each other a while now. And, I suppose, because you have saved my life so many times… and because you allowed me to become a Waterbender… and because you'd only sulk if I refused, I will allow you to kiss me."

She flashed him a teasing smile. Aang, lost, overcome by a clouding perfection, responded with a dazzling grin. A grin borne of a kind of exquisite joy he had never known, not even in his time with Gyatso at the Southern Temple, which he had thought perfect, and that he had never expected to know, or even know to exist.

It was true; there is a variety of happiness that life in a Temple simply cannot grant. And now it flooded him.

He leaned forward, and she mimicked him. The very air seemed to connect them.

There was an explosion. A sickening noise- and more sickening how fast joy can be shattered.

A wave of dust and smoke blasted them from between the trees and they were both blinded and deafened momentarily.

They dropped away from each other. Aang, Katara observed, was unnaturally pale. His face, which had seemed so bright and full of life just the barest second before, was creased with something more than anxiety- sheer, unbridled dread.

Without a second's thought he turned and sprinted back towards the camp.

"_Aang!_"

Winded and disconcerted by the horrific speed of the event, she staggered after him.

The camp lay open before her. Her vision was sickeningly blurred, but it finally began to focus as the dust settled on the carnage at the campsite; and on Aang, the Avatar, on hands and knees before a bloodied mass of bulk and bone and white, scratchy fur…

**Like I said, everything get's nastier here. Tell me what you think of this chapter. This is really the first romantic scene I've written for fan fiction, so please let me know how I did. R&R. **


	15. Disaster

Just for the record, I never liked Appa

**Just for the record, I never liked Appa. Cruel things go on. Bad days for Aang ahead. It doesn't get any better in this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

Aang cried and cried. What else could he do? Thought, reason, comprehension, even his own senses failed him.

He just cried, blind, deaf, numb, lost. He knew nothing else. All the universe compressed to that single point and smaller, and in this tiny space he staggered around in limbo, confused, stricken, desperate, as he failed over and over to come to terms with what had happened.

He seemed to be being swamped by a fictitious, spectral unreality; endless voices and visions called to and emerged before him, lying and cheating him, telling him it was _this_, not _they_, that were fantasy, and daring him to prove them wrong. But he couldn't

Appa, he thought, he felt he _knew_, could not be dead. It flowed over him again and again, lancing him in gut wrenching surges, until he found he didn't know why he cried, only that he had to, _had _to, for what had happened. Nothing else mattered or existed.

So he remained, stumbling in his own hallucinatory void of lies and falsehoods, endless denials and dismissals, utter incredulity, until he could physically cry no longer, though he tried as hard as he could to continue.

And as his tears slowed, ever so gradually, reality began to swell out again, stretching back to regular proportion, filling him with a sickening sense of nausea.

He couldn't place how long exactly he had cried- those minutes, or hours, were like dead time, not continuous but compressed into one event. It had happened, and then it had stopped.

But he still felt lost. Katara's arms were around him, but he hardly noticed. His mind, wasted utterly for so little or so long a time, seemed somehow scarred. Everything was slow, unrealistic, inconsequential, as though his life was just the words of an old saga, or ballad, about some unfortunate souls, from the lips of a bard to whom he was listening…

More time passed by, another expansive block of time with no length, because it was filled with feeling and not action, before the others returned from their hunt.

They, at least, had succeeded- Sokka and Lu struggled under the weight of some large animal. But it meant nothing to Aang. He had failed.

There was a dull _thunk_ as the dead beast was dropped, forgotten, but Aang hardly noticed.

Dead silence.

It held.

It held.

Aang thought it would never break.

The quietest footfalls as one of them took a step forward, staring in, Aang imagined, repulsion. Katara clung to him tighter.

Slowly he dared to look up. More gentle footsteps. Lu, who had moved first, took a second step, with Toph close behind. Toph was stunned to the core, and trembling.

But Lu's face showed only a deep sympathy, and perhaps something else as well: a weariness, that proved he had already seen too much; a kind of unhappy, unwanted compliance with the tortures of the world; as though this were simply an epitome of all that had happened to them, and all that would, and he knew he could do nothing to stop them.

They gathered round him, saying nothing but trying to be comfort, but did little good. Aang felt little outside his own invented world

But somehow, something still troubled Aang, though his grief. Only the very dearest things can appear in such sharp focus in the midst of such anguish. Sokka had not stepped forward.

He hovered on the edge of the wood; the horror was evident on his face, his pale features. His gaze flickered repeatedly forward. But Aang knew his friends. Something had changed.

Something that had always been there, benign, which they had all on their turn wound and twisted up, pulled tighter, had finally snapped.

A bead of perspiration ran down his right cheek, and through his own tumult of rocking, kaleidoscopic illusions he could still almost picture Sokka's mental struggle, the endless stichomythia in his mind.

He tensed for the outcome subconsciously.

The other-worldliness held on unshakably, refusing to allow him clarity of thought, dulling and clouding everything.

"I'm leaving," Sokka choked.

"What?"

Aang didn't understand the words. They hadn't registered, hadn't sunk in. He could think of nowhere else for Sokka to go, or be.

"I'm leaving," Sokka repeated, his voice wavering. "I can't keep _doing _this."

Oh, what are you talking about!" Katara snapped. She immediately regretted her words, for Sokka truly had never been so serious. Her own words bounced off him and cut back into her.

"Sokka, what do you mean?" she asked softly.

"_This!_" He shouted, fighting with hysteria, "I can't keep doing this! Always the same, over and over and over, roaming, cruising around, like it's one big bastard joke! Laughing or playing or getting into trouble, then fighting our way out and thinking nothing more of it, and then the same again in one continuous cycle! It's like a dream or an amusing fairytale. But this means something!"

"What are you saying?" his sister whimpered, tears in her eyes.

"And now _Appa_" he continued unabated, then slowed, "we've all lost so much. Katara, we gave up our _lives_ for this. Everything we knew, our families, our way of life-"

"Sokka," urged Lu, rising, "don't be irrational. Don't just make your decision. Let's think about this!"

"I have thought about it," he screamed, "I've thought for so long. Everything you said… I've thought about it so long now. And said it! But no-one listens to me. No-one _cares_!"

Sokka was in tears now, too.

"And how will this help?" asked Lu softly. "What do you want to achieve by this?"

"I don't know" he sobbed, "but this much I do know. I can't go on with people who care so little for what happens, for what _is _happening-"

"Sokka!" Aang screamed, and his voice cracked. He shuffled forward, on his knees, broken.

"Sokka, look at me. Look at me."

Sokka did look- saw the tears tracts, thick and raw on his face, and the fresh tears that followed their paths, endless and inexhaustible.

Reflected behind the eyes a world of unceasing pressure, the tremors of being snatched from everything you have ever known, all so suddenly; and the remembered stares of so, so many thousands of people, waiting, hopeful, expectant, and his stare among them.

And, slowly, pouring subconsciously all his dying passion into his words, Aang whispered:

"How can you say I do not care?"

A tear dripped off his face.

Sokka flinched. His trembling gaze went right through Aang, then to the sky, then to Aang, then everywhere, but refusing to absorb what it saw. He looked ready to vomit, and his whole body trembled. Then, he spun on his heel, as smoothly as he was able, and staggered away like a man who had just lost everything, and didn't know where to go next, or how to start anew.

The silence returned, but not dead. Now it mocked them. Jeered at their failure, reminding them of its eternal presence, its indifference to their greatest sorrows.

For a moment, Aang thought he was dead. For so long after, he wished he was.

**A **_**very**_** emotional scene. Like I say, I haven't done a lot of writing involving stuff this "strong" (yet), so how did it turn out? **

**Sokka's exit seem a little sudden? Well, I smell a rat…**

**R&R. **


	16. Labour and an oath

I hope everyone's appreciating the darker side of this story so far

**I hope everyone's appreciating the darker side of this story so far. It'll probably go on pretty harsh from now; but not as bad as the last chapters. **

**It should be pretty obvious who the infiltrator is by now, but if you're a little slow this chapter should pretty much clear things up. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

"I could have killed him then. Why did you not allow it?"

"You wouldn't have killed him."

"He was weak!"

"He was broken. They are not the same."

"He would likely have not even reacted!" said Combustion Man, who for the first time in a long time was struggling to control his temper. "He would have just knelt there and died!"

In the near total darkness of the forest, well away from the group's camp fire, Lu Ten's shake of the head barely registered; but his words carried their usual presence.

"He would have killed you. No, actually he would have destroyed you."

They stared at that faintest glimmer of each other's eyes for several moments, then, recognising a stalemate, Combustion Man changed the subject.

"So the scared one has left, then?"

"Yes. It wasn't as hard as I had anticipated. By the way, well done on destroying the bison. I commend your perfect aim."

Combustion Man ignored the double-bladed compliment. "So who will you be picking off next? The girl? Or the Avatar himself?"

"That won't work again. Now they will cling to each other harder than ever."

As they talked they had begun to make their way back to the camp. Combustion Man stopped suddenly.

"How do you do it?" he enquired abruptly, "How do you turn them on one another like that?"

Lu turned to reply from a few paces on. "This is a rare display of curiosity on your part."

"I wish to know."

"Very well then." Lu sighed before commencing. What he did was not a matter to boast about. He disliked using his skills to turn good men into animals, that snarl and fight over food; he disliked doing that to children even more.

"It was especially easy with Sokka," he began with a wry laugh, "fools are easy to fool. But the concept is essentially this. Philosophy… is a fickle thing. It doesn't always make you wiser.

Some men will read the words of great philosophers and know them, comprehend them. But most will simply nod their heads, impressed with the wordplay, seeing only the surface of an ocean of meaning.

So it was with Sokka. It is easy to use the works of great minds to your advantage if the one you speak them to only nods and smiles and thinks himself the wiser. He does not _examine_ them, so I am capable of convincing him of anything."

He stopped to chuckle humourlessly, "One of the very first things I told him was that _great intellects are sceptical_. But he wasn't sceptical. I told him clever words and meaningless puns about duty, and convinced him that there are more important things than family and friends."

Now it was Combustion Man's turn to smile.

"But _you_ do this for duty, Lu. Do you follow any code?"

"Yes, I do it for duty," returned Lu, a little sharply. "My words are not the same as my beliefs. Only actions are visible. Motives are hidden.

Why else would I be doing this? I am manipulating children, _and_ helping you to kill them. What's more, I know they are all good people. Kind people, but brave as well. All so trusting. Aang especially. I had several opportunities to kill him myself-"

"Then why didn't you!" Combustion Man stormed. It was a rare outburst. He calmed before continuing. Your indecisiveness and your cautiousness are beginning to agitate me."

Lu was silent, watching. He was done talking. It had not been his business or his duty to kill Aang, or any of the group; that was Combustion Man's job.

"I will attack them tonight."

"You won't," replied Lu instantly, "the Earth Bender, Toph, will easily detect your approach."

"Not when they're asleep!"

Lu scoffed, "You think they will be asleep after today!"

Combustion Man stopped. His fight was over. Lu spun on his heel and began to walk.

"You will not attack," he finished without looking back, "you will wait for my instruction."

Combustion Man watched him leave.

After shaving, Lu followed the curve of the embankment. Their camp occupied the high ground on two sides; to north and east the ground fell sharply in a steep slope, treacherous with roots. At the base of this ran a small stream.

And they had been in this same place, Appa's death place, for two days, with no sign of moving soon.

This should have been a worry, for how long would it take to reach the rendezvous point? The distance had been judged as a day "by flying bison," but how far on foot?

But the thought of walking had become an anathema- unthinkable. Most of all for Aang, who would know in every step he took, right step, left step, right, left, that they could be- should be- soaring through the sky on _his_ pet, and dearest friend. He would never be able to forget.

As he drew closer, the sound of Aang's exertion was distinct in the periodic bursts of snapping, whipping thunder as Aang cleaved the air.

Training.

It was all he did, and all he had done, these past two days. Each morning, waking with the very first light of the sun, and training, and training. Driving himself to his very limit, endlessly, holding himself on the apex of his physical capabilities in a way he had never done before.

Why did he do it? Lu knew the answer well enough.

To hide.

So long as he maintained such gruelling effort, his mind was full to the brim with it, for he had no strength to think of anything else but how to swing one more fireball, one more blade of ice, one more scythe of air.

There was no space for grief in such toiling intensity.

And, it dispelled in him, temporarily at least, the knowledge that he had slacked off his training, or appeared to _not care_, ever before.

_Perhaps, _his mind told him, _perhaps, if you had trained like this before, Sokka would still be here._

He rounded the gentle curve of the base of the slope and Aang came into view.

Panting, lathered in sweat, his bare chest heaving, he pounded a tree relentlessly. There was something distinctly feral, and starkly out of character, in the way he went about it, blasting it over and over with fire, ice, air, fire, water, air, ice, freezing it, burning it, freezing the flames, smiting the ice.

And, Lu noticed, the fire in his eyes had changed. That lively, sprightly, brightly burning flame had become hellfire- fierce, insatiable, all-consuming.

Aang, it seemed, had found a new weapon to utilise. Now he fought with hate.

As Lu approached, Aang, as though trying to prove something, tore up the ground in a vicious arrow that sped forward, snapping the roots and splitting apart the earth, so that the tree, drenched and charred, collapsed backward.

"How long have you been down here?" he called as he approached.

But Aang had collapsed. For a moment he appeared unconscious, and for some time after Lu was sure he would pass out at any moment, for how desperately his breath came and his body shook.

It looked as if he dared himself to die, but his body clung defiantly to life, against the will of his mind.

By degrees Aang appeared to recover, though he barely looked able to move, and panted, "four hours? Three? I'm not sure…"

"You should get some rest?"

"No. No," he tried to smile, but it had none of his normal enthusiasm, "I don't practice enough."

Lu knew when a cause was lost. He had seen so much, suffered so much, but still, he decided he could never see as much suffering as Aang.

"We need to start moving again. Soon," Lu said softly.

Aang just shook his head, and with nothing short of phenomenal effort, heaved himself up. His arms trembled visibly with the strain of lifting his exhausted frame.

But he moved anyway, somehow, choosing a new target and practicing a continual series of left-right air blasts.

Lu watched the muscles in his arms flex, as though they were protesting; looked to the tree, slashed and re-slashed, its branches severed one after another as it was quickly picked apart; then back to Aang, and the fire in his eyes.

"Aang," he repeated more firmly, demanding his attention. "this is a serious matter. Your anger may drown out your problems in your mind, but you know that in the world they remain. The eclipse will not wait for your approval! We have barely a week to reach the rendezvous point."

"No, no."

Lu realised his words, for all their usual strength, had really said nothing. They were gone, immaterial and unrecognisable, simply breathed out of existence in the air, reaching Aang as dust; as though burned up in a conflagration.

Aang turned round. Lu looked directly into his burning eyes, and the hell-fire scorched him with its hotness, its greed.

Aang's jaw locked. "We do not leave here until I have killed Combustion Man with my own hands."

**What Lu says in the first part of this chapter, "Actions are visible, motives are hidden," is not intended as a quote in the story, but it was in fact said by Samuel Johnson. **

**R&R… Please. **


	17. The fire of fury

Big fight scene

**Big fight scene. These are hard to write. So could **_**everybody**_** review. Really, review. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

The moon was full.

It cast its spectral light upon the forest, pale, taunting, setting the leaves twitching, and the shadows darting.

Accompanying it, as ever, came the scything wind of the Fire Nation, weaving its way, impatient, between the trees and through their branches, leaping across the clearing and over the apparently sleeping benders before slashing up to the branches once more, whipping Aang's bare skin and making him shiver.

But he noticed neither action. His every sense was sharp and concentrated, awaiting the inevitable rustle, snap, flicker, that could not be a leaf or night creature. All else was irrelevant. He waited only for Combustion Man's bulky form, no longer dreading it as he had done at the inn, but wishing it, invoking it.

Crouched as he was, pressed up deeply into the branches of a tree, the moon's light was lost amongst the leaves, and his small figure was nearly invisible and utterly silent.

His shirt, stuffed with straw, and his headband, were bent back against the tree directly opposite and below him across the clearing, deliberately placed so the moon's light was behind the broad trunk. In the near darkness, it was impossible to discern it from a real person.

It felt curious to have his tattoos showing; especially the one on his head. He had concealed them so long that to finally reveal them, by choice, to an enemy, conflicted with his instincts. But it also felt good. It was such an open act of defiance; when the moon shone on them, blue on blue, his enemy would know he was not afraid.

Wait!

Movement!

His skin tingled, this time not from the cold.

It was time. His body called to him, telling him over and over, _It is time, it is time. _

But he knew it wasn't. Combustion Man's huge frame, the metal glinting in the moon's glow, had barely crested the slope against which the tree was backed.

_It is time. It is time. _

Aang swayed a little, rustling some of the leaves with his shoulders. Every nerve felt restless, restless for the first strike.

He rooted himself to the branch and held on immobile, clinging to his logic: _Too early! _

But the hell-fire ate away that logic, consuming his resolution, leaving only ashes. And the fires in his soul reached higher and higher, inextinguishable, making him feel_ immortal_.

_Now! Too early!_

Combustion Man had half rounded the tree. He could just, Aang imagined, make out the sleeve of the black, fire nation clothes.

He came into clear view, and the hell fire roared upwards. Here was the killer! His presence was inexcusable.

Every breath he took, each heartbeat, was stolen; every glint of the moonlight off his metal limbs was a glint that should not have been, for his crimes. For Appa.

It was all Aang could do to cling to the tree until his knuckles whitened, and wait.

Combustion Man rounded the tree, malignant, arrogant in his gait; for a second he was oblivious to the trap, then the flash of his surprise in his pale, illuminated eyes registered that he knew.

Aang released everything, gave into the pounding blood hunger in his head; the need for revenge. Swaying forward on his toes, he leapt.

Combustion Man turned just in time to take Aang's air blast face first, slamming him back against the tree.

Winded, he made to return fire as the Avatar landed lightly.

There was a sudden roar, a convergence of voices; Lu leapt up nimbly, hurling a fire blast and completing the trap.

It was coming for him!

Off- guard, he staggered sideways. The blast fell against the hard wood of the trunk and dispersed.

The Avatar was not finished.

Aang stepped closer and closer as he threw blow after blow. Combustion Man dodged a scythe of air that ripped a great chunk out of the tree behind him and flung it away. Then another, and another.

Blasts began to rain in from all sides as the other two leapt up and hurled themselves into the fray.

He stepped right; Aang immediately hit him with a compacted sphere of air that hurled him backwards. He hit the slope hard and rolled out of sight.

"Aang!"

But he wouldn't stop.

Unheeding of their warnings, he leapt to the slope and glided down at remarkable speed, his fluid form dancing, dark, blue, dark, blue in the patchwork moonlight.

At the base, Combustion Man tensed and fired at the falling figure, but it moved like smoke, dodging his attack in mid-air and counter-attacking in one motion.

Combustion Man leapt back.

Aang landed and went immediately on the offensive, launching arcs of fire with terrible rapidity. Combustion Man dodged as best he could and fired back.

Toph, at the top of the rise, threw up a wall between them three feet thick, that combusted even as it rose, hurling thick hunks of rubble high into the air.

Aang soared among them. His tattoos illumined graceful, sinister, by the medley light of the moon, he rolled easily in mid-air simultaneously blowing away the raw dust and collecting the hurtling masonry and unleashing it downwards.

Combustion Man leapt back with not a second to spare.

"Aang! I'm going to cut him off!" Shouted Katara from the rise, as she ran to do so.

The cry had been loud and deliberate: Aang had wanted this killer to know that he could not run.

But the flicker of his vision had been enough; Combustion Man seized the moment and fired.

Aang took a stance; Lu's stance, and looked for the calm centre.

Calm…

Total calm…

But it was nowhere. There was no calm.

But it wouldn't come; the hellfire filled the space utterly.

The discharge exploded in his hands, and though he had deflected the shock of the blast it still hurled him back ten feet.

He hit the ground hard, rolled once, then swivelled on his shoulder and was on his feet in a second.

Blood dripped into his left eye from a cut on his forehead; he angrily blinked it away. There was still red in front of him. The red of fire. One of his attacks had caught on the scrub, and flames now licked greedily upward.

His agitation grew. Combustion Man was gone.

He looked around, furious, his eyes burning bright and angry as the flames that were springing up, up, filled the labyrinth of trees with smoke.

"Come on!"

He didn't know what he was screaming, but he screamed it over and over, every lack of response fuelling that hell fire.

"_Come on! Coward!_"

The inaction blinded him with rage. It dashed his one purpose.

Frenzied, he began to strike out, quick and desperate at first… but only at first.

"_Come on coward! Come and fight! You're GOING TO DIE! COME ON!_"

His enemy lost, his objective gone, he struck out blindly, hurling fire in every and all directions, heedless to what he did; until he was surrounded by searing heat and choking smoke, and the blaze reached high above the tallest branches.

But nothing would slow him. He just carried on striking out, filling everything with fire until not a smudge of green or brown remained, and the gentle blue of the moon was destroyed utterly by the inferno's hungry copper intensity.

But he wouldn't stop lunging out, spreading his own _fire_.

The smoke was blindingly thick now, but it never touched him. His body was surrounded by a swirling cyclone of air that hurled it all away; and indeed it did seem to shrink away from him of its own choice.

He had no idea where everyone else was, nor did he care. He could have entered the Avatar State, or entered and came out again; but he didn't care.

Nothing mattered, nothing was important, except to burn, to destroy, to unleash his hatred, and to find Combustion Man.

Movement!

Like an animal he pounced with a prodigious fireball that charred the earth and scorched the air as he set it on its way, burning, eating between the daemonic, skeletal trees.

He began to walk. The very ground split and burned beneath his feet. The air crackled with the swirling vortex that engulfed and surrounded the Avatar, spinning black then red, black then red as it picked up smoke and ash and flame.

Combustion Man, so strong, suddenly so weak, his right arm and shoulder hideously scorched, lay with his back against a tree, feeling and seeing the snapping fires rage above him in its branches. He could only watch as Aang approached him, demonic amongst his tall whirlwind that deafened him with its cacophony of spinning noise; and the hellish conflagration that consumed everywhere, all his vision.

The Avatar's tattoos burned red and angry. His bare torso heaving with exertion and fury, panting, his mouth open, Aang came on. He saw nothing, felt none of the heat.

The flames themselves, burning all around, fled outward away from his vortex, as though in terror.

A twister of air, engulfed by a fan of fire.

He had, it seemed, become more than just what Combustion Man saw- the round shoulders and slim hips of a child. In some ways, he had become a god. Perhaps he was.

He was the Avatar.

But Aang- if such a person existed at that moment- knew none of this.

All that existed was Combustion Man, between the furious black-orange turning of the cyclone. He shouldn't exist.

Standing directly before him, the Avatar let one hand drop; the ground ripped up, and Aang held a barb of rock two inches thick.

It hovered waiting, intruding.

It intruded because there was so much movement, so much of everything. Combustion man could hear nothing but the insurmountable discord of the vortex; see nothing of the Avatar's still form against the devilish backdrop of living, breathing flames.

He felt something like a blow, pressure but no pain. The scathing heat soared to unimaginable heights, then abruptly retreated. He felt cold.

He was vaguely aware, however, of a trickle of warmth, running from his severed jugular, flowing gently down his chest…

Some time later- it could not have been long- Lu appeared through the flames, holding a cloth to his mouth and nose to keep the smoke away.

"Come on Aang," he called through the fabric, "we must leave."

His voice was muffled by the cloth, and strangely distant. The crackle of the flames was so much more lively.

His swirling vortex, so hellish before, was beginning to fade as his strength gave, and the first wisps of smoke were making it to his nose.

Lu repeated himself, taking a step forward. Aang could not tear his eyes off the corpse, skewered against the tree, eyes open and ghastly in death.

The flames were encroaching. Lu took a final step, and turned Aang by his shoulder. The Avatar nearly destroyed him then and there.

But something sparked in his soul, just in time, and just bright enough to be felt amidst the roaring, demoniacal hell fire, that stopped him.

Lu went on, oblivious.

"Aang. We must leave. The others are safe. But we cannot stop this fire. We must wait for it to burn itself out."

Aang nodded slowly, acceptant. He glanced once at the corpse; managed to tear his gaze away; then allowed himself to be led the first few steps as he found himself again.

But little did he know, as they made their escape from the world of fire, that Lu had been referring to not one, but two conflagrations, they had seen that day.

And Lu's greatest fear was that the invisible one, the most potent, would never go out.

**Fight scene over. How was it? A little short? I've written better in my opinion. Still, if everybody tells me what they think, I'll know. So read and review. Don't just ignore that last bit. Do it. **


	18. Before the eclipse

After this chapter I'm not carrying on until more people have reviewed

**After this chapter I'm not carrying on until more people have reviewed. I sound a little greedy don't I? Oh well, who cares? Just please review. And Sokka will have his day, without doubt. **

**Big moment coming up. Beginning of the end… **

**Also, to confirm, I may be getting some things wrong in this chapter. I haven't seen any of the episodes involving the eclipse, and even if I had I'd probably be making this stuff up. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

Dawn. The very first cusp of the sun's glow was just visible through the whipping rain and iron grey clouds.

Two hours to the eclipse.

Two hours to judgement.

Time moved so slowly…

But Aang knew, he could no longer escape- in two hours, he would succeed or fail, win or lose. Kill or be killed…

Now, sat on the edge of a hundred foot drop overlooking the hidden creek, he could not dispel the image of Combustion Man.

A humorous name- he laughed grimly, the sad noise lost in a roll of thunder. A killer he had been. But also a man. A man he had cut down without a second's hesitation.

Finally, the fact he had avoided so long, had hammered home and lodged in his heart, immovable. He was a killer.

He tried to focus. The two Water Tribe ships left in ten minutes- they had timed the trip exactly to reach the Fire Nation capital, by the secret route, just in time for the eclipse. Then, to the palace on foot. To the main hall- for Lu assured him Ozai would be in a meeting then- and finally, the death. One blow against a defenceless man, and it would be over.

It didn't feel that way. The concept of its ending sounded unacceptable- an impossible truth. They had been fighting so long…

But truth it was. In little more than two hours, he could say for certain, that he would be dead or assured to die; or he would have killed another man.

He was trapped.

The rain picked up, lashing his face. The bulbous clouds exploded with a flash of blue, followed immediately by a roar of thunder.

His newly stolen fire bending clothes did little to fence out the cold; he pulled the heavy fur cloak tighter around his thin frame.

But it did nothing for the empty coldness in his soul.

He heard footsteps on the hard rock; Lu Ten came over and sat beside him. Aang felt partially comforted. Lu was a man of reason.

Like a rock, he seemed to Aang the last proud remnant of rationality, stood against the torrent of the world's insanity. And he sheltered on that rock.

"Funny to be here," he managed to say above the noise.

Lu looked Aang up and down. His black hair was plastered to his skull, the fur glistening with the rain. He seemed smaller than ever before- hunched, shrunken, lifeless. His eyes were rimmed.

"I was going to shave my head before this attack." Aang shivered as he ran his hands through his hair in confirmation. His thoughts jumped straight into his mouth even as he spoke.

"I had it all planned out," he stated shakily, "all the ritual, the preparation. I haven't done _any_ of it."

Lu smiled gently, "It doesn't matter. When the attack begins, you will feel ready."

"I'm not sure."

Lu glanced at him. "This is what you wanted- this is the sum of all you have worked for."

Aang finally met his eyes through the rain. There was something desperate in them. He shook his head. "I thought I wanted it. I… I…"

He took a deep, shaky breath and managed to continue. "When Appa was… killed… I was so _angry_. I couldn't believe it, but at the same time I revelled in it. It helped with my fears. That hatred filled me all up.

I could see myself storming the palace and slaying the Fire Lord- see the _fear_ in his eyes. Sometimes, I thought of the fire benders and I wanted to kill every last one of them.

But now the man responsible is dead. That hatred is all gone, Lu. I don't know if…"

He sighed and looked back out across the bay "I don't know if I have the strength left for this."

He waited, desperate for Lu's response. He could not go on as he was.

Lu watched him sadly. Every word was true. Lu had looked into his eyes, and that hell fire he had seen was gone. Burnt out. In Aang's soul, perhaps, there was nothing left to burn. All that remained were hot ashes, an ever present reminder of what had been.

Finally he spoke:

"I know how it is, Aang. I have had my taste of revenge- the reality never lives up to the fantasies. You stand over the body, and you simply know, deep down, without thought… _it wasn't enough_. I can tell you now: nothing is ever enough.

A dear life was lost. A void is created. An absence. Soon you discover it doesn't matter how many more voids you create. That gap will never be filled.

But your reaction tells you about yourself."

He paused. Aang waited intently. They sat, the two figures, a man and a boy, small against the sheer cliff face and the vast expanse of the clouds, frail against the wind, and the older figure continued:

"They say _hatred__does not cease through hatred. Hatred ceases through love. _This is true. Lesser men would go on killing forever because what else can they do? They see only their own hatred, telling them to kill, kill, kill, again and again and when does it end? But you have seen through that. Few men do."

Aang nodded but could say nothing. The words warmed him.

Lu continued: "I will not say that this should not concern you. Anyone would be concerned faced with our task. But know at least this: you never _needed_ that hatred to do what you must."

"I killed Combustion Man as he lay right before me. I can't forget it-"

"The second will be easier. Trust me Aang, for that is a grim truth. You kill your first time, and you mourn. And you are guilty for the second, and the third. But you cannot be guilty forever. Every man remembers his first kill- few men remember the tenth."

"I hope I remember the tenth," said Aang weakly.

Lu was shocked. Though he was careful not to show it, the words shook him, for that sort of sad acceptance was beyond him. Aang knew, as the Avatar, he would have to go on killing. He accepted it, but it jarred him.

_That, alone, makes him a better person than me_, Lu thought.

They sat silently for several minutes, the enormity of each of their tasks weighing down heavy upon them.

Finally Lu concluded. "I can't say anything else. All philosophers- and many were soldiers- agree here, that there is nothing to say."

He stood.

"But I hope we succeed," he finished truthfully. And walked away.

Less than a minute later Katara approached. Aang was relieved. In those storm-filled moments, his mind overflowing with his mission and all that could go wrong- surely _would _do- He saw none of her beauty.

He simply saw that she was a friend, and that was enough.

She came and sat by him.

"You ok, Aang?"

The question was so ridiculously out of place that he almost laughed. But all he could mutter was "Ok."

"We're all behind you on this."

"Thanks."

"To the death, if we need to."

"Yeah. Thanks for being by me all this time."

"Sure."

"No. Really." He turned to face her, smiling feebly. "We've faced so much together. Thanks for not abandoning me now."

"We… We never finished something."

"What?"

Aang felt he knew what was coming, but he was surprisingly devoid of worry. Katara's presence felt more natural than anything. He found himself enjoying her company. Loving her company.

Just her being there was an intoxicant. Knowing these could be his last hours of life, his mind began to absorb every minute detail as though it were his first taste of the world- the cold rain felt good on his face, the ledge hard and reliable, the murky sea and distant land proud and transcendent.

In that moment a fragile contentment settled on him. It was an emotion he would never forget. The proximity of his own death had opened his eyes to the true wonders of life and his senses.

Katara started talking again, and just the noise was like sweet music, "The truth is, Aang, I have feelings for you. And… What else can I say?"

Aang smiled a genuine smile. For these moments, he was _alive _, not anything else could matter. "You needn't say anything. I know what you mean. I always thought I was too young…"

"You aren't young on the inside, Aang. That is what matters. We're still built like children now, but that is just a passing thing."

Her voice cracked with emotion. "But being with you has turned me into a woman. And I think, deep, deep down, you were really a brave man a long, long time ago."

He smiled back at her, and felt more connected to one person than at any time in his life.

"Shall we finish our kiss?" she asked.

"No. I want that to be a special time."

"I don't understand."

He forced himself to keep talking. "I could _die_ today-"

"Don't say that!"

"I could! I want our first kiss to be a beginning, Katara, not an end. If we ever get to be together, I want to know it isn't a passing thing, like being a child is. I don't want to brush the surface of that.. That… those feelings, and then die knowing there could have been more. Do you understand now?"

"I do."

"Okay then."

"Okay."

There was nothing left to say. Together, like a couple who had walked through hell, proud and defiant, they walked down the hillside to the waiting boats, and to death- or murder.

**This was a very hard chapter to write, and I don't like it much. How was it? And what about the last few chapters? R&R. **

**Lu's quote is from the Buddha. **


	19. Climax

Okay

**Okay! Okay, okay, I cave! I give in! You cruel people! Even though not everyone reviewed, I'm still going to continue, because I can't let you down and because I'm obviously not really strong-willed enough to carry out a threat. Still, all I can say now is that if you don't review, you're a horrible person, and you might even make me cry. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender**

Sokka was numb with shock; numb with fatigue; numb with thinking.

_Numb with thinking_. He rolled the words over on his tongue. They sounded, he noted, almost comical, and certainly paved the way for an endless supply of tasteless humour.

But to him, now, it was not even remotely funny.

From the very first step into the forest, alone; when he truly recognisd all that he was abandoning; his mind had turned on him.

How could he be so stupid? So disloyal?

His honour, and his courage, two things which as a warrior he valued as high as anything else, were forfeit.

But then came the words of Lu Ten, sweet and soothing, wise and sure. If he could just look hard enough, he was certain that all his answers were contained therein. He had followed his instinct, hadn't he? He had done what was necessary… had he not?

As always, Lu's words were a comfort and an answer, and no matter what his honour said to him, the philosophies he had so eagerly absorbed always came as a rescue him from despair.

So it was that the same thoughts flashed through his mind, over and over.

First would come the critical, raging voice of his own mind and soul; then the smooth eloquence of Lu Ten, that denounced it all.

But since he could never see both sides at once- they were so contrasting- he was forced to run over them individually, so that his mind became like a great debating house, with articulate rhetoric flying bafflingly back and forth as each side, himself, and the side Lu had put there, presented their arguments continually more vehemently than the other.

The problem was, that whoever was speaking at the time, he found himself agreeing with. His honour should be everything to him, so when it spoke up it brought his heart to his throat… but Lu's words were so cool, so wise, that he couldn't help but nod his head at their insight.

So he walked on, waiting, hoping, for the matter to resolve itself. Hoping that something would come to him to sway the balance, because surely this… torture… could not go on forever?

Sometimes, the indecision was so heavy on him, that he didn't care which side was truly right; he just wished he was able to choose.

--

It is impossible to describe the tumult of emotions that Aang experienced that day, as he perched on the ship's bow, the rain slicing against him, and the wind whipping his clothes.

It is impossible, because to anyone but him, they are meaningless; shallow and insubstantial. To explain the feelings of such a tortured individual, one who has seen so much that people should never be forced to see, to one who has never seen them, is the equivalent of trying to explain the appearance of colours to poor, blind Toph.

Suffice to say that he sat, trembling a little and saying nothing. No-one wished to approach him. Everyone: Katara, her father; Toph, every single one of the crew, felt the burden of what they were about to do.

But it was nothing like the way Aang felt the weight, for he had an additional guilt to carry. He knew that, in his absence, war had been allowed to rage for one hundred years.

One hundred years of violence and death, bloodshed and slaughter, all in his hands.

Now was his only chance to change it. It was the apex of all he had worked towards, to at least pay back the world for the suffering he had caused.

To the others, to fail was simply to let the war go on, and soon end; to Aang, failure was failure eternal, and if he lived, he would carry forever the knowledge that he had not been strong enough to complete the task given him.

So they each sat, lost in their own thoughts, absorbed in the deepest corners of their emotions. Indescribable emotion.

But, Toph had once remarked that she almost did see colours: that, to her, red was like silk; blue was like water; yellow was like the sunlight. So perhaps something can be said in this way.

It is possible to understand at least a fraction of what he felt, in the knowledge that, in that long, long hour that the ship sailed the hidden tributary to the river, and the tall spires of Fire Nation Capital reared into view through the curtain of rain, Aang saw everything that had happened to him, in that year with real friends, in as much detail as it had happened then, back to the very first time he opened his eyes and looked into Katara's.

Most of all, however, he saw the skeletal form of his beloved old Mentor, Monk Gyatso, and the destruction at the Air Temple.

And he saw that happening all over the world, again, and again, and again.

**Just another episode to really sum up events before the attack during the eclipse… and to hear from Sokka. **

**(Takes deep breath) please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please R&R. **


	20. Final Attack

Finally got to the attack

**Finally got to the attack. Didn't want to draw it out too long. And there's an unexpected addition…**

**This is a long chapter, by the way. In case you hadn't noticed. **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Avatar: the Last Airbender. **

The storm was incessant. The rain had been beating steadily down for an hour at least, and the ever-present lightning forked across the sky with as much vigour as when it had begun. The thunder was deafening. The wind whipped the rain with a kind of feral mixture of hiss and howl.

With such discord of roar and hiss, crack and howl, echoing across the heavens, no-one heard the gentle bump as a small, sleek water Tribe ship ran up the small beach, right beside the perimeter wall of the Fire Nation Palace.

But then, this was to be expected; unseen by Aang and the group through the driving storm, not a single sentry paced the walls, nor one guard at the gates.

The clouds were black and thick, and though dawn had passed it was as dark as night as four companions, the Avatar; a Water Tribe Peasant girl; a blind daughter of noblemen; a Fire Nation aristocrat- people from every corner of the globe and every level of society, united in one cause- leapt from the prow to the sand, they knew that the sinister majesty of the eclipse would go unseen.

But the effect would be the same.

--

With a gasp, Zuko awoke, bathed in sweat, purple splashes gliding across his eyes. He blinked furiously

His blurred vision slowly dropped into focus, until he had enough sight to light a candle.

His royal chamber flickered before him, unchanged.

Not an ornament out of place.

He gazed straight ahead. Two swords glinted back at him in the candlelight, but now there was no malevolent mask to stare with them.

So why was he awake?

For the most part, Zuko trusted his instincts. He had not been dreaming. Therefore he would not be awake unless something was wrong.

He sat up and gazed around intently for some minutes. Not a flicker of movement, save the deceptive shadows cast by the candle.

The water-clock trickled on harmlessly. He felt himself grow tense. Less than a minute until the beginning of the eclipse.

Could that be why he awoke? An irrational sense of vulnerability?

A tiny wisp of wind prickled his bare chest.

He stayed utterly still.

There should be no wind.

Very few could afford glass windows, even in the technologically advanced Fire Nation.

Even fewer could afford _opening _glass windows.

He could.

And he hadn't opened one of them.

With deliberate care he lay back down on his side and tucked the blanket up to his neck.

But he didn't sleep.

--

By no coincidence, he was not the only Fire Nation aristocrat to be awake in those early hours of the morning.

It was also no coincidence that that person was also family.

Two hours beforehand, in a tower-jail on the very outskirts of the Fire Nation capital, one old man, his muscles bulging with effort, dragged the guard in his cell to the floor, and strangled him to unconsciousness.

Seconds later, the rain was polishing the stone floor of the tower from the open double-doors; and the cell door was swaying in the wind.

--

The second the boat hit land, a great calm descended upon Aang.

All the emotion that had plagued him throughout the voyage faded away.

His body obeyed him as though he were weightless. He could feel the smooth fluidity of his stride. For the first time, he truly realised how much more powerful he had become since that first lesson with Katara, teaching him to move the water.

The instinctive anxiety remained in the back of his mind: what if he failed, what if he made a foolish mistake? But the sudden pace left no room to properly feel that anxiety.

The perimeter gates loomed before him in the darkness, the twin torches on each side feeble amidst the rain.

Without slowing, he unleashed a bolt of air so strong that its raging howl paled even that of the storm.

The reinforced oak gates crumpled like paper.

They were in. The combination of rain and dark made their surroundings impossible to make out; a stretch of garden flickered and faded through the shadows around them as they ran.

Aang was tense for an attack at any moment. The eclipse must surely be less than a minute away. He knew. He could feel his fire bending capacity dying by the second.

Onward and onward the four sped, crossing grass, stone, pebbles, grass, on and on, as though the gardens themselves were extending to keep them away.

Then, before he could really comprehend the distance they had moved, more doors reared before him.

Huge as they were, the great wall into which they stood made them seem like toys, for it extended upward and outward in all directions until the curtain of rain disguised it from view.

Even before Aang, Toph unleashed a savage tremor along the ground. The doors buckled and burst open.

Still no attack.

Nothing.

No resistance.

The eclipse was upon them! Aang felt his fire bending fade completely, frighteningly, as though he had forgotten all he had learned. As though he had never known.

As he ran he shivered, unable to help pitying the Firebenders as they experienced the same thing, knowing they had nothing else to defend themselves with.

They ran on, almost sprinting now, passing down a long corridor. They could make out only the barest outlines, with not a torch lit along the walls.

Every second that ticked away now threatened to engulf Aang in panic. This was his only chance! He ran harder, faster, putting everything he could into just running.

They turned a left, a right. Aang tried desperately to remember the instructions Lu had given him.

He reached another junction. Without stopping he guessed left.

There was the portrait of Sozen. He had chosen correctly! Just a little further…

Quickly he estimated how long they had been running. Three minutes left? Two?

It must be around that.

He turned a final right.

The great mahogany doors of the Fire Nation hall, the very heart of a war that had raged one hundred years.

There they stood, at the end of the hall. Aang could almost feel the Fire Lord's closeness.

Aang hurled his blast of wind forwards, and the doors swung open.

They had not been locked.

One minute thirty seconds to go…

And the Firelord sat directly opposite him, his golden throne unimpressive without its circle of flames.

They were separated only by the cold and lonely expanse of the hall. Aang made to run.

--

The eclipse was upon them. Fire itself seemed to cringe at its coming.

Fire itself, down to the small candle that flickered by Zuko's bed.

Hidden in the shadows behind a divan, the black-robed figure waited until Zuko's steady breathing resumed.

Then he crept out, slowly, painfully slowly. The knife slipped into his hand.

Smoothly but silently he padded over to the bed, and stood over Zuko's sleeping form. The knife came up…

The prince's fist thundered out, crashing into the assassin's jaw. As he staggered, Zuko leapt out of the bed, his foot swinging out. But the assassin dodged nimbly and stepped back, reversing his knife in his hand and drawing a slender scimitar.

The two stood opposite one another; honour and treachery face to face…

Suddenly Zuko sprang for the swords on the wall.

The assassin rushed in, his knife hissing out. Zuko batted it aside with his forearm; but he needed all his skill to sway away from the sword blade as it snaked towards his head.

With a scream of rage the Assassin, his hood dropped to reveal a craggy, marble-carved face, threw himself against the prince, driving him against the wall. The swords clattered from their stands and crashed at their heels.

Trapped against the wall, Zuko stood defiant, his hands raised.

The sword swung out, and again Zuko required all his talent. Using his hands and hips, he swayed and deflected the blow, and the slim sword struck hard stone… and shattered.

For a split second the assassin stood dumbly, staring at the broken blade and hilt in his hand.

Then he attacked again!

Zuko barely turned aside the knife as it arced towards his belly.

The hilt of the sword blade cracked against his chin, almost knocking him senseless.

The knife lanced out again.

For the first time he could ever remember, Zuko panicked, and ducked awkwardly, the blade nicking his cheek.

From here, Zuko had no choice but to attempt a desperate, explosive tackle. But, in a display of masterful training, the assassin rolled his waist and wrapped his forearms around him, absorbing the prince's momentum and throwing him back against the wall.

Zuko's head split against the stone, and the scene before him seemed to jump up and then drop down again.

Through his scrambled vision he saw the broken sword hit the floor; the knife go up double-handed, swing down towards him.

By fighting instinct alone his hands came up, grabbing his attacker's wrists.

The blade halted in its descent mere inches from his throat, and hovered there, trembling as their hands trembled, as though it were straining to be released, and fly home into flesh.

Zuko could feel his strength giving. His assassin was huge and monstrously built, and Zuko knew the blow to his head had dazed him.

The knife, by now a an anathema in his mind, gained an inch towards his throat.

He was on the verge of surrender. Surrender to death.

Two huge, muscled arms wrapped around the black robed- shoulders.

Zuko glimpsed the look of shocked surprise on the assassin's features as he was dragged away from his victim.

With lightning reflexes Zuko swept up the hilt, with its broken blade, and plunged it into the assassin's chest.

The man, released from the hold, stood there a second, and bubbling blood dripped off his mouth; then he went stiff, and fell forwards, lifeless.

With a groan of relief, Zuko wiped at the blood on his cheek…

and uncle and nephew stood opposite each other once more.

--

Despite the impatience of every nerve in his body, Aang couldn't help but slow a little as the four of them rushed into that grand, grand hall.

It was more the shock of actually being there than the marvels of the architecture.

He had waited and struggled so long for this moment: every new bending technique he had learned, every strategy, had been nothing but preparation for this single second of time.

And now the Fire Lord sat opposite him, nothing but a strong, imposing man. Another human being.

And one minute of the eclipse remaining.

As the four of them sprinted toward him, Ozai rose to greet them, as though he were merely welcoming guests. His tone was mocking.

"Ah, what have we here? Four rebels, dressed in the clothes of their enemies, come to strike me down while I am defenceless."

Aang faltered as the words boomed out. Their power was immense; it filled every inch of the vast hall, crisp and clear.

"A noble attempt. Going to kill me, Avatar? Strike me down in cold blood? Come on, then!"

His casualness was stunning. Aang had expected a courageous man, but this was different. This was sureness.

It unnerved him, because it seemed to whisper to him that he had overlooked something so _obvious_.

And in the heat of the moment, the most important minute of his life, the slightest murmur of emotion was amplified a hundred fold.

But he could not stop running now. The plan simply could not halt.

When Aang was close enough to see in detail the pupils of Ozai's eyes, he stopped.

Endless emotions and thoughts assailed him, but he ignored them all, focusing all his concentration on what he was doing.

Focusing everything on creating just one last gust of air, strong enough to break bone against gold…

His arm drew back as if in a dream. It was a mental effort to keep going. But he could feel the power of the move inside him, the air rushing to obey…

"_Aang!_"

Katara's voice came to him from far away. He barely heard his own name. His focus was intense.

_One more move, one more. It will all be over…_

Thirty seconds left.

Katara screamed.

Toph tensed.

Ozai awaited his death in silence.

_One more move to end all of this… _

Aang's arm swept forward.

And stopped.

Aang turned, amazed beyond words, utterly incredulous. It was Lu's iron grip that held his wrist.

He couldn't move as he glanced that look of grim acceptance in Lu's eyes.

Lu's other fist cracked out. Aang rolled dazedly with the blow, which still smashed him to the ground.

He lay there, disbelieving, staring into Lu's eyes, searching for some answer, some explanation…

Lu was bent over him, both hands on his collar, cracking his head against the floor.

Aang didn't know what else to do but accept the punishment.

Katara screamed again, and it was like a burst of thunder in an empty valley.

Everything he was trying to do- everyone he fought for- fled back into him.

A rush of water beat against Lu's right side; Katara's attack from her water-skin knocked him off of Aang.

Ten seconds left…

Stunned, barely comprehensive, Aang leapt up, and in a single majestic leap bounded onto the arms of Ozai's throne.

The Fire Lord, surprised by the sudden move, reeled back into his throne, so that Aang stood, daemonic, over him.

Now there was real fear in his eyes.

Five seconds…

With a strange sort of deliberateness- a steady, patient movement- Aang drew the water from his own canteen, freezing it, until he held a barb of ice.

There it hovered, as Aang prepared himself for the killing blow, his eyes shut to block out Ozai's genuine terror.

Because he saw Combustion Man there with him…

Two seconds…

He hesitated.

Ozai suddenly exploded from the chair in a whirl of flame, blasting him back. The spear of ice shattered like glass, renting the air.

Yet Ozai came on without mercy, without respite, sinews taut and eyes blazing, and unleashing an unending hell-storm from which nothing could escape...

**Not a bad chapter, but not my best in my opinion. Sorry if you don't like long chapters. They're better than short ones! I'll stop stating the obvious now and, as is customary, beg you to review.**


	21. Failure

I'm on a bit of a roll here

**I'm on a bit of a roll here. As you've probably guessed, we're approaching the end of the story soon. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

For at least a minute the room was a burning red melting pot of intensity. The whirlwind of fire that had engulfed Aang was oppressively hot to the very farthest corners of the room, and too bright to look upon.

Katara and Toph backed away, horror and despair etched into their faces.

It was over.

All at once the fire burned out- the terrible attack ceased in a second, as though it had never been.

Aang stood where he had fell, his arms outstretched, the last wisps of his barrier of air fading away, nudging his sweat and rain drenched hair. He swayed a little and staggered, failing to right himself.

His hands dropped to his sides, and he was down on his knees.

Then he was unconscious.

Ozai watched with an assortment of mild triumph and mild contempt.

Katara was on her knees.

Toph was mute with horror.

_It was over…_

They had lost. A year of struggle- a year of hope- come to nothing.

With an offensive bang of noise, doors in the sides of the hall flew open, and a column of armoured fire benders filed in. In seconds the two girls were surrounded; not that it made any difference. Katara barely felt their presence.

They had _lost_…

Lu was on his feet and by Ozai's right side. It seemed an uncomfortable position for him, Katara thought idly.

The captain of the Guard turned to his emperor and addressed him: "We await your judgement, Sire," he said, kneeling.

Ozai sighed, scratched his moustache nonchalantly with one hand. It was obvious that he had made his decision long ago.

Finally he announced, "Take the Avatar down to a chamber and-"

He stopped as a door banged again. With long, targeted strides, Azula made her way swiftly to her father.

For some seconds she whispered in his ear, and he murmured in return.

Then he turned back to the men, "I've changed my mind. Take him with Azula."

Instantly a man moved out of the circle, sweeping up Aang's limp form over his shoulder.

Katara screamed- a pitiful sound- and ran wildly against the circle.

Two guards grabbed her but she fought back with all the strength of frenzy.

To touch Aang's still form seemed to defile not only him, but all they had done.

That they should have come so far, for Aang to be merely carried away…

Ozai turned to the rebel girls. He appeared to have lost interest in what he was doing; but the slightest hint of a smile showed at the sides of his mouth, so he couldn't have been uncaring.

Strangely, Katara thought, his little smile didn't seem so sinister…

"As for you," Ozai began, and then stopped, changing tack, "as for you… many of your kind would make me out as an ogre, but… I personally disagree."

He sneered. "You are no threat to me anymore. Captain. Take a small vessel- no, take _their_ vessel- and sail them back to the Earth Kingdom.

I grant you one more chance to start anew. Am I not merciful, to let you live with your defeat, rather than to die with it? I should say so.

But if you ever return here, you will join your young friend, the Avatar."

The circle closed with established discipline, and the two of them were marched away. The captain of the guard made a respectful bow and left.

Lu turned to Ozai. "Uncle, I hate to be cynical in this glorious moment, but to me that seemed a little too close."

"Far too close!" Ozai agreed.

"Why did you not post guards to slow them?"

The Fire lord snorted. "Without firebending they wouldn't even have slowed him. It was just as well to take the chance without risking innocent lives.

Still, it was a fair success, wasn't it?"

Ozai began to walk towards the exit, with Lu following behind.

"I must applaud your skill, nephew," Ozai continued. "Few could have executed such an infiltration as skilfully as you did."

He would liked to have continued along this road, but Lu was clearly uneasy with the topic- so he changed subject.

"Out of mere curiosity, how did you overcome the Earthbender's- unique- method of sight, in the end?"

"It was simple. By keeping in constant contact with him, I was able to guide your Assassin to the likely landing spots. If he was there in advance, and kept very still and calm, he could avoid detection. By that means she only discovered him when he was right upon them… us."

"Masterful! Where is he now?"

"Dead."

"A shame. I rather liked him." He laughed suddenly. "It is fine that you are back, nephew. You cannot imagine how much I have missed reasoned discussion."

"Thank-you. And I have missed your glorious sense of humour."

Ozai laughed heartily.

Lu was a little surprised that Ozai didn't press the matter of his most talented killer's death. Truly, men like "Combustion Man"- he had never revealed his name, probably for his own safety- came by only once in anyone's lifetime.

But then, why should he? All his enemies were dead or defeated.

The Fire Lord had no need for assassins now.

They were just a step away from the imperial gardens when a figure stepped into view.

The storm was beginning to blow over, and the dull grey light seemed only to attempt a dreary silhouette around Zuko's lean figure.

"Father." He nodded respectfully. "Cousin," he said, turning to Lu, "it is excellent to finally meet you."

They bowed to one another, and shook hands.

"I am told you are quite the philosopher."

"Yes, I should hope."

With the two of them having been in pursuit of the Avatar so long, it had been invariable that they nearly met on several occasions. Lu had seen them many times, but, though it panged him not to be able to see his father again, he knew he had to remain undetected.

This was the first time he had been able to look directly into his cousin's eyes. The scarred prince was casual enough to the unobservant eye, but Lu, skilful in reading people, detected the strain on his mind instantly.

"I should like to talk to you. Right away," Zuko added, with perhaps a little too much impatience.

Clearly he had not been intended to reveal his discontent.

Had Ozai noticed?

It was impossible to tell.

In that moment, Lu felt a strange affinity with the young Prince. He knew he was reckless, hot-tempered and impulsive. He envied none of these traits. But he had an inner kind of passion; A _spiritual_ power, that he had only ever before seen in one person.

Aang, the Avatar.

With a glance to Ozai for approval, he nodded.

"Don't be too long," Ozai said, as the cousins made off. "I am already tired of the old days. We have the problems of the world to discuss, Lu- and then we need get drunk, think up a thousand ways to solve them, and forget them all by the time we're sober!"

Lu heard not a word of this, because Zuko had already begun talking to him; and the urgency in his voice was unmistakeable.

**This is going to be the first of a few "in-between" chapters before the proper end. That doesn't mean don't read them, though! They're important, and they clear some things up. **

**And I got another serious point. I'm thinking of putting a torture scene in the next chapter. Is this going too far? Is it necessary? I'd like to try and write one but if it would only slow down the story then I shan't. Please review and tell me. **


	22. The Problem of Duty

I've decided to put a warning in here: The next two or three chapters will contain torture

**I've decided to put a warning in here: The next two or three chapters will contain **_**torture**_**. They're probably M rated, I don't know, but seriously, it isn't pleasant, so if you don't like it, don't read. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender… even though I am about to torture him. **

Azula glimpsed her brother and cousin across the gardens as she and the guard made their way in the opposite direction; but the thought barely occurred to her to introduce herself.

Her mind was on other matters.

When the lightning bolt had struck home, in those eldritch crystal caves beneath Ba Sing Se, Azula had experienced a thrill greater than life itself. A transcendent, indescribable sensation of absolute euphoria.

Yet from the moment it ended, that ecstasy had begun to fade, becoming a memory, then a shadow, until she could almost have doubted that she had ever felt it at all.

But in her heart she knew it had happened, and though the memory of the sensation was gone, the knowledge of it remained, taunting her.

Until now. Now she had a chance to experience it all again.

The chamber at the edge of the gardens was built into the ground; the metal roof was barely visible through the rows of fragrant flowers.

Azula thought it delightfully poetic that what she was to do, would be done surrounded by the verdant wonders of nature.

Her heart was beating fast as the guard went down the steps and unlocked the door with a small key. She followed swiftly behind.

The room was not large, but its bareness made it feel vast. Azula used her bending to light the torch on each wall; their flickering light was just enough to fill the room in semi-brightness, hurling the darkness to the corners and leaving it there, undamaged.

Aang was set down on the ground in the centre, and his clothes removed.

For some minutes Azula examined him, analysing the marks on his body as though he were an ancient ornament. It sent ripples down her flesh to see the red scar on his back: a scar that shehad inflicted. The result of her ecstasy.

The sight of it also reminded her of the time itself, throwing the events back to her in exquisite detail.

She could feel her blood flowing fast.

"Put him up, then," she said at last, pleased that her voice retained its authority.

The guard obeyed without question, standing the unconscious Aang up on his toes and slipping his wrists into a pair of iron shackles that hung from the ceiling.

Aang's limp form immediately sagged and Azula told the guard to hold him upright.

"Now wait one or two minutes," she commanded. "I want to savour this moment. And then we'll wake him."

--

"Is Azula still looking?"

"No- she looked away almost instantly."

"Good. I don't want her hearing this."

As the two cousins made the short walk to Zuko's spacious apartments, Lu explained his story, from the point when he had begun following them until then. The prince listened courteously, but it was no hardship to detect that his mind was on other things, and he wasn't really as attentive as he seemed.

Zuko never slowed his pace until they arrived in a small sitting room with two luxurious divans, and a rather ostentatious painting above the mantelpiece.

Ordering fruit and wine, Zuko dropped onto one of the divans; Lu could see the strain on him, and, taking the other divan, prepared to listen attentively.

Zuko cleared his throat. "Lu… do you believe in duty?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

Lu leaned back a little. "Because, it is duty, and honour, and virtue in general, that represent the only difference between us and simple animals. My duty is to the Fire nation- therefore I will follow Ozai even when he is weak and senile, and I am capable of overthrowing him. No wolf or ape would follow that code. You see?"

"Yes. I see."

Zuko's voice had the effect of being distant, detached; Lu understood its meaning. The words were spoken only to fill in the silence- his mind was furiously working.

After some time, Zuko said stiffly. "You said Ozai. I assume you meant the Fire Lord?"

"Yes." Lu answered slowly, "but Ozai is the current Fire Lord. Our current leader. I do not see the relevance of that."

"But then, your duty is to the Fire Lord, not specifically to Ozai, correct?"

"Yes. In essence. Where is this headed?"

The servant arrived with their wine and Zuko drank appreciatively.

"Damn, but my throat is dry," he mumbled, taking another excessively long swig from his glass.

Lu sensed that he wasn't enjoying the quality. Finally his concern for the young prince, an attachment born just that same day, drove him to speak.

"Look, Zuko, from what I have seen of you, avoidance is not your favoured method. You are fearless to the point of stupidity. So whatever it is that is troubling you, it must mean a great deal if you are reluctant to tell me.

But it will not simply disappear. Since you have come to me I can assume you were unable to resolve this problem yourself. So tell me what is happening."

Zuko ran a hand through his hair, struggling for the words.

Finally he managed to say, "Everything you said about duty, Lu… I used to see it that way too. Now I am no philosopher, but my honour has always been everything to me. Loyalty is part of honour. But…"

He shook his head.

"But… last night an assassin was sent after me. I was nearly killed."

"But that isn't it, is it?"

"No. I think Azula sent the assassin."

Lu awaited the explanation unmoving.

"Azula is the only one I can think of who would send the assassin. I feel like a walking target…"

He looked up. "All this time, since I returned, Azula has been playing her elaborate games, as she always has done. Always lying, always cheating, always _betraying_. All that matters to Azula is Azula.

Of course you know how hard it is for a female to become Fire Lord. Hard, but not impossible. If there are no other obvious claimants, then she can take the position. I think that's all she cares about now. Perhaps it was all she ever cared about

She told my father that I had killed the Avatar, hoping that when the truth became apparent I would be ridiculed again. Then I would be out of the way for good, and her path to the throne would be clear."

"But what she hadn't counted on," Lu picked up, "was that Ozai already knew the Avatar lived- and didn't care. So-"

"-She was forced to take more direct methods. A dagger to the heart, at the moment of the eclipse, when I was at my most vulnerable."

There was an uneasy silence for some time. Zuko had so much more to say, but thoughts that are hidden in the mind so long often fear to come out.

But Lu's presence was somehow calming. He waited patiently, docile and benign, and the young prince felt his fear fade away.

"It just seems, Lu… that I am nothing but a dunce here. I am playing at honour, and trying to be a man of virtue. Everyone else sees this, and exploits it. I cannot play against them because they aren't restricted by my rules.

Azula… and Father, in his own way… don't care about honour, except when it suits them. With their cunning they play me like an instrument, and I cannot fight back because I cannot lie or connive like they can.

In essence, I am loyal to them, but they are not loyal to me. It makes me doubt all of this…"

Lu sat back, his thoughts solemn. It was, indeed, sickening, that noble men… Zuko, the Avatar… were surrounded by villains. Liars, cruel souls who tricked and deceived them, knowing they had no defence against it. Villains like Azula… villains like him.

"I am afraid, friend, I do not have the answers." he said softly, "who does? We can never know which is the right path to follow. There probably isn't one.

But as far as I can see, your decision is as simple as this: you must decide to whom you owe greater loyalty. Your family, who have done nothing for you, but deserve it nonetheless; or your country, who perhaps do not deserve it, but who every day give their lives for your father, a man they have never met; and who will one day give up their lives for you."

"…Thank-you, Lu Ten. That makes things easier. I will think on it."

"Be careful with this information, Zuko," Lu warned, "the knowledge of this assassin could be just as lethal as he was, if Azula discovers you suspect her."

"I will. We buried the body outside the perimeter wall."

"We?"

"My uncle and I. Iroh escaped, and came to help me." He smiled at the memory, and Lu saw the respect there. "Wily old man… turns out he had predicted such a move."

"He is very wise."

"He certainly is," agreed Zuko, grateful that he could finally enjoy the fruit he was eating, now that the pressure was lifted.

"I intend," he continued, growing more confident, "to ask for his release now. I am sure my father will be in one of his rare forgiving moods after today's victory. Will you accompany me?"

"Definitely, after I have followed common courtesy and introduced myself to your snake of a sister. Do you know where she is likely to be?"

Zuko's face immediately darkened. The violence of it was startling. "She will be in her chamber at the edge of the gardens… with the Avatar."

His words were almost a hiss.

"Chamber?"

Zuko turned his blazing eyes on Lu. "I think you know what I mean."

**Like I said, torture scenes next chapter. R&R… he says as though it'll make any difference. **


	23. Pain and Failure

Torture scene right off

**Torture scene right off. Tell me if you think it's nasty enough, bearing in mind it is going to get even worse (this is just the preliminaries!). If you don't like, skip this chapter. **

**Warning again: most of this story is alright but this one is quite probably M rated. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

"Mistress Azula, do you wish me to leave?"

"No." Azula pulled the leather glove onto her right hand- the knuckles bristled with metal studs. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of the excitement after all this waiting."

The guard tensed but said nothing further.

She grinned suddenly and put a hand to her hip. "Look here, guard. What do you see?"

"A boy, mistress. A young boy. The Avatar," he added quickly.

"Not just the Avatar," she snapped, "The very same Avatar that destroyed half a fleet. Over a thousand sailors. This boy is a killer, my fellow soldier of the Fire Nation- no, more than that, a destroyer. He must be outside human emotion: he will recognise only pain, a sensation he inflicts so willingly on others. Do not concern yourself over what we are doing; for his crimes he is less than human and shall be treated as such."

She knew he was far from convinced- he, she presumed, saw nothing past the torture of a helpless tattooed boy. But she didn't care. Nothing else mattered anymore. The Avatar was here, and she was here. It could finally happen again.

The princess took one last look at Aang's small, naked frame, then backhanded him savagely across the jaw, the studs puncturing the flesh.

Aang's eyes snapped open as he came awake.

The guard let go of him; Aang groaned as the shackles dug into his wrists and forced himself to stand on the balls of his feet.

"Hello again, Aang." It has been a while, hasn't it?" her left hand stroked his cheek. "Last time we were like this, it was a little different, if I remember? After all, you escaped then."

The mock sweetness was suddenly laced in venom.

"But you won't escape this time!" she backhanded him again, forcing a groan. "You and I are going to have a truly _exquisite_ time together! Guard!"

At her command, the guard drew Azula's dagger from the brazier of hot coals, carefully handing it to her.

She placed its tip an inch from Aang's face, so close that he could feel the razor-sharp heat radiating off it.

Aang squeezed his eyes shut and trembled. All there could be now was pain; an eternity of endless pain.

Pain and failure.

"It is one thing," continued Azula, in her despicable sneering tone, "to use firebending to heat a blade. But natural heat has a cruelty about it that is… difficult to replicate."

Suddenly she pressed the flat of the blade against Aang's chest. He winced, trying to draw back, but Azula had an arm around his waist, holding him to the searing heat.

The pain increased and he started gasping, sweat springing up all over him, but Azula just wouldn't let go.

All that existed was that single patch of intense, searing agony, and he started screaming- long, desperate sounds. Then he started begging, desperate words struggling between his cries. Still Azula hung on, unable to keep the sneer from her lips.

When he thought the pain would kill him the blade finally parted, making him gasp with the sudden absence.

He realised he had slipped at some point during this ordeal; the shackles had cut into his wrists and blood was running down his forearms.

Azula, her body pressed against his, pushed a finger against the burn, feeling the raw, puckered flesh.

Then she placed the tip of the blade against Aang's stomach, feeling his body tense.

The stillness held, a thrilling stillness filled with dread and Aang's shaking.

Then in one lightning movement she swept her booted foot out, kicking Aang's legs out from under him. He screamed as his torso slipped several inches down the blade, tearing and scorching the flesh. The shackles bit his already slashed wrists.

She replaced the blade against his belly, waited for Aang to struggle back into a helpless half-stand, then repeated the manoeuvre. This time Aang fell partially forward and the blade slipped half an inch into his flesh.

"Azula, take it out… Ahh… Azula, please!"

"You impaled yourself on it." she said matter-of-factly, "besides, you call me mistress now; as my other servants do."

"Okay, okay! Mistress, please, _please_ take the knife out!"

"Beg me!"

"I'm begging! I'm_ begging_ you to!"

Aang had to use all the flattering, pleading, grovelling words he could think of before she finally pulled the blade clear.

He hung there, trying ineptly to recover, but the pain seemed to override all his senses. He just screamed and sobbed, tears mingling with sweat, mingling with blood, as they rolled down his cheeks.

It took him almost a minute to recover himself enough to stand back up; the shackles were too high for him, and he was almost on his toes trying to keep slack in the chain.

His wrists were a burning reminder of what happened when he slipped. All he could think to do was stand, try to blot out the terrible pain that was already there, and pray that, somehow, there was to be no more.

But in his heart he knew she would continue, and he felt nothing but despair. He had failed. Now he was to suffer. Perhaps forever.

Azula went on torturing him similarly for at least half an hour.

She delighted in circling him, like a waiting predator, then flashing the knife out. She was impossibly precise; when she stabbed him, the blade always sunk as far as was possible without killing him.

The pain was indescribably excruciating. It was blood and fire, slash and burn: two terrible tortures rolled into one.

She cut him also; long, curving cuts that left his skin hanging in tatters; and short, deep ones, at pressure points, where they bled profusely.

Once she had to reheat the blade in the brazier; in this brief opening she used her fingers, heating them with her bending and then running them across his skin, leaving red and aching trails.

Aang tripped and stumbled repeatedly as the ground and his feet became slippery with blood, and the aching heat disorientated him. His wrists were quickly shredded, and blood ran down his arms and dripped onto his face.

The world had retracted; all of existence was in this small metal chamber, filled with blood and fire and suffering.

Her joy total, Azula stabbed Aang in the thigh- missing the main artery by an inch- then unexpectedly pulled back, leaving Aang, broken and ruined, to vainly try and recover himself once more.

"Guard! Come over here. I hadn't forgotten you."

For a split second the young man stood rigid, and it seemed he might almost say something in opposition. But Azula's iron discipline won over and he came and stood beside her.

"Close your eyes, little boy," she whispered.

Aang trembled a little, the closest he could muster to a shake of the head, but when the blade pressed against his thigh he snapped them shut. Terrifying blackness swamped in, and only the heat of the blade was threat enough to keep him in it.

He heard her footfalls as she walked around him, her long, cruel nails trailing his chest, making his fresh wounds throb.

She stopped, looking over his shoulder.

"Now punch him. In the stomach."

The man's fist crashed into him and he gasped and doubled over. Azula immediately pressed the flat of the blade against the back of his neck.

Aang screamed and screamed. The pain was blinding; a roaring, swelling pain; a pain that grew ever larger and larger, until it seemed it could be no sharper or more consuming, but always it found a way to become worse.

Again she told him to beg her to remove it, but he was screaming so much that his words were few and far between, and often incoherent, and the blade remained there for more than a minute. It would have been even longer, most probably, if he hadn't been saved.

"Azula. Azula!"

The words barely registered in his mind as someone else's; Aang could think only that he was suppose to do something, and that if he didn't the pain would get worse.

The princess didn't recognise it either; if she didn't recognise it, it couldn't be important, and she pushed the blade down harder.

"Princess Azula," came the voice again, "I know you can hear me. Your brother is going to talk to your Father on an important matter. I would most like to introduce myself before I join him."

She stopped, pulling the blade away. Aang screamed just in relief and began to thank her, pitifully and repeatedly.

She ignored him.

_An important matter_.

There was only one such matter she could think of.

Longingly she glanced back down at the charred, ruined flesh on Aang's neck, surrounding a bright crimson weal.

_An important matter._

Her smirk all at once returned. Aang was not going anywhere. She could return any time. The thought seemed to suddenly occur to her.

She would have an eternity of this. An eternity of thrills…

She turned to the guard, who still stood by, obedient.

"You are dismissed."

The young man's shoulders sagged in relief and he made, as swiftly as was politely possible, for the door.

She followed soon after.

The man outside turned out to be her cousin, Lu. She had no particular interest in him. The man was a philosopher. She found that all philosophers were either misanthropists or preachers. She had no use for either.

"It is good to finally meet you, Princess Azula," he said, bowing.

She returned the bow. "And you, Lu Ten. Now, do lead on. The plants will not wither in our absence; you can always return to them."

"As can you, Azula" he returned, and she tensed at his understanding.

She gave him her most innocent smile, "Do not let my private chamber arouse your curiosity, cousin. I have a few… eccentricities. Nothing you would be interested in."

"Oh, I'm sure," he replied curtly, "Besides, I think I know a little about your 'eccentricity' anyway."

**How did I do?**

**R&R. Why do I keep saying that?**


	24. The Comet nears

Can't think of anything to say, so I won't

**Can't think of anything to say, so I won't. On with the chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

The comet was only a day away; its closeness was impossible to ignore.

The effects had been impossibly sudden. In less than an hour Ozai could feel the leering, raising sweep of Sozen's Comet's immense power.

Even at such a great distance, that furious energy seemed to lance through the mind, awakening primal desires as it threw the world into intense focus.

By degrees, reason faded, replaced only by simple instinct. The raw, all-consuming instinct of fire itself.

Most amusing of all was that Ozai had just defeated the Avatar. Overcome the last real obstacle in the path to total conquest. And he didn't care in the slightest.

But this was unlikely to be the comet.

After one hundred years of more victories than defeats, The Fire Lord-and the Fire nation- it seemed, had simply had enough.

It was with this wild feeling that Ozai fought as his son, daughter and nephew approached the throne. He was well-trained and well accomplished in self discipline; but he could feel the immense power of the comet gradually winning over.

He knew it was unavoidable. Just one day of it, then it would be gone.

_But the power, _his mind said, _imagine the power! _

_Shut up! That was the comet speaking then! Soon the power will be all you see!_

"Father, I have a request,"

"Clearly." Ozai finally achieved concentration. "But first, Azula. Have you discovered the location of our missing peasant?"

"No, father." Azula's voice was strained not with tenseness but a high, feral sort of quickness; an impatience over nothing. The effect of the comet on her, no doubt…

"I have interrogated him," she lied, "but it seems he has simply snapped. His mind is gone; he would give any answer to stop the pain. I don't think we will get anything out of him."

Ozai leaned forward in his chair, "then you will not be needing him any more."

"No!" Azula said, rather too sharply, "No, no… I believe there may still be some hope for the answer. He must know."

"…Very well."

Lu Ten added nothing to this. It would be pointless to indicate that he had in fact been there- that Sokka had simply wandered away. The Fire Lord- without doubt- already knew that Aang had no answers.

Therefore he condoned the torture anyway…

Lu found he was struggling to keep himself focused. The comet threatened to engulf all his reason. Certainly not yet, but soon. On the day? Perhaps, could it?

Zuko had repeated his plea for a request. The Fire Lord turned his attention and waited.

"I wish for you to release Iroh."

Ozai raised his eyebrows. "The Dragon of the West? He betrayed you, son. Turned against you in the caves beneath Ba Sing Se."

Zuko made an impatient yet meaningless gesture. Clearly the comet was affecting his prudence; agitation showed clear through his face; he wanted nothing more at that moment than for his request to be accepted, as soon as was possible. Certainly he didn't want to hear what he already knew. Perhaps that was why Ozai was doing it?

Again Lu had to force himself to focus.

"All the same," Zuko persisted, unperturbed, "he is my uncle and I wish him released. And-" he made a sweeping hand gesture. "His son is here now also. Surely after Lu Ten's work he deserves to see his father?"

Now the Fire Lord's keen gaze fixed on his son, the eyes slightly narrowed.

"You are quite… tenacious… about this, Zuko. When he was first jailed it appeared to mean nothing to you. Why the sudden change?"

"Lu Ten is here now."

"There must be some other reason…"

"There isn't."

"There must be."

"I tell you, there is not."

"Tell me the real reason or Iroh will be in jail until his bones turn to dust."

"He saved my life!"

Lu flinched inwardly. Immediately he knew what was coming. Azula s face was unreadable, but Lu estimated that he saw a tense, anxious tremor coiled back in her, ready to release when it was most needed. Ready to defend her.

"He saved my life from an assassin's blade!" Zuko went on, swinging his words heedlessly. "An assassin hired by my own sister! How can I ignore that loyalty? He deserves freedom!"

"Hold on," Azula cut in, leaning forward a little in a way that only hinted at the anxiety underneath. "Hold on… why do you accuse me, brother? Why would I kill you?"

"You have always lied!" Zuko stormed, "You always have, you always will, and you still are now. I know it was you!"

"I saved you from the catacombs… brought you back here…"

"Shut _up! _That was for your own sadistic pleasure!" His voice lowered menacingly. "You are sick- everything about you is false and meaningless except your malice and your insanity."

Both siblings were shouting now; but this was nothing like a family feud. This was pure hatred unleashed; years and years of torment and lies, made even more real by the comet's far-off influence.

"If you can find _one _piece of evidence to suggest that I did this, then I dare you to present it here!"

"The body-"

"A body is not evidence of an assassination attempt!"

"How dare you accuse me of being the liar! Traitor! Bitch! I will kill you with my own hands-"

"Enough!"

Ozai's impossibly strong voice rang out, filling in every space with the full-bodied solidity that was now so familiar. Yet he still had to shout several times before there was silence.

Ozai leaned back. A kind of weariness had settled on him. The comet's affecting presence nudged him in a way that made what happened here seem laughably contemptible. Meaningless. There was so much more to do…

He leaned back in his chair, laying his head against the carved gold.

"So… finally we have the truth, then. All that you have said is most enlightening. But my answer remains the same. He is a traitor, and what he did before, and what he may have done after, only augments that fact. The dungeon is barely fit for him. He stays."

"What?! That cannot be it-"

"That is it. Now leave me."

Zuko's clenched fists trembled with fury, and for a split second he Lu thought for certain that Zuko would attack his father. The tawny, scarred eye burned with passion.

Then he stopped; just stopped. His hands stopped trembling, his eyes lost their fire. With what must surely have been incredible effort, the prince swung on his heel and walked away.

The slightest hint of a smile curved Azula's lips. It was an arrogant, repulsive expression, to those who looked close enough; it was as though she had never doubted herself. She could feel the heat of the comet like a physical warmth upon her skin, making her blood rush.

Soon, she thought, the comet would be here. Then… Then…

She didn't know what she would do then. But that didn't matter for the moment.

Right now, at this moment, she would spend one more half hour with Aang the Avatar…

**Ok, still got nothing to say. R&R. **


	25. Redemption

Still got nothing to say

**Still got nothing to say. Except that there isn't much more to go. You can see the end approaching. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The last Airbender. **

There were four master Firebenders on the ship, and over a dozen soldiers- Every man a veteran of combat, bristling with the cold skill of the long established warrior.

But it didn't matter. What they failed to realise, it seemed, was that there was to be no escape plan. No final, desperate effort. No last attempt.

All such thoughts had fled from Katara's mind at the moment of Ozai's furious attack; the glowing flames that engulfed the Avatar had engulfed her determination as well.

She was all but destroyed, her pride, her lustre, gone. Aang was dead or awaiting death. Lu was against them, and always had been. They had been played from the beginning, and if they fought back they would be played again.

It was over.

There was no hope now.

So she just sat, hunched up small and unmoving in one corner of the little cell, similar thoughts rushing through her mind over and over.

Part of her still refused to believe what had happened.

_Where is Aang? Why isn't he here? Has he abandoned us, after all this? We are so close to victory. _

_No. Aang is gone. We lost._

Furthermore, it didn't occur to her for one second that she was surrounded by grown men; or that the comet was merely a day away.

She didn't think of Toph, or Sokka, or her father, or the rest of the crew, whom she hadn't seen since the attack.

She didn't know what she would do when they landed. She had no prospect of the future. They had lost. What else mattered now?

After a weary, changeless length of time, the cell door was opened. When she refused to stand she was dragged up, her hands tied behind her.

She walked mechanically beside the huge man, who pulled her along at pace through the small interior of the ship, out onto the deck, and from there to dry land.

She barely recognised the little hidden creek that they had set out from. Others were jumping down behind- she didn't care to look. A figure smaller than the rest came beside her. She guessed idly and indifferently that it must be Toph.

The soldiers formed a square around them and began to lead on.

The two captured girls moved with them- Toph, tense and restless, and Katara, blank and lost. Soon the creek was behind them and they were in light woodland. The dull, meaningless flow of time wore on.

Katara remembered nothing of the short trek through the light terrain. She had no concept of how much time had passed. All she knew was that she was blank, lost, faded into melancholy and despair. And then something impossible happened.

"You two must be so proud," the leader, a lean yellow-haired man rambled. "Very few pitiful peasants ever get the company of such masters."

He hadn't stopped talking since they began, but Katara could remember not a word of his self-sustaining monologue.

"And all just to escort you away from the capital. Yes, yes, yes, you must be dearly enjoying your moment of fame."

"We are honoured, master, to be in the hands of the best," said Toph suddenly, her voice heavy with sarcasm and defiance.

Things all at once began to move much more quickly. Katara's slow, labouring mind had trouble keeping up with the events that followed.

First, the leader's face contorted into something like rage, but with an unmistakable air of victory.

Every other man around him suddenly seemed- just seemed- to be thinking the same thing. They all abruptly took on a vicious, lustful air; and they all seemed to move and talk together as one, as though all their minds were connected.

"That Earth Kingdom brat has been mocking us since we set out…"

"Nothing but insults and foul words…"

"And the Waterbender no better, with her stone-faced silence…"

"I say we take what we deserve…"

"And I…"

"And I. No more grinning and bearing. They are the victims…"

"The Fire Lord will never know. He doesn't care…"

"Not in the slightest. Especially not about what we do to _them_…"

At the apex of their agitation, with its hint of triumph, of a long-awaited excuse found, someone grabbed Toph's dress at the shoulder.

She screamed as the fabric tore.

Katara didn't look, but closed her eyes and waited for Toph to lash out. Then the Firebenders would descend on them and kill them. She found she didn't care.

The death blow could not be more than a few seconds away.

Ten seconds.

Nothing.

She opened her eyes, and turned. The look of astonishment was apparent on everyone's face.

The fire bender who had grabbed her made no further moves. He twitched a little where he stood, then his knees crumpled and he toppled forward… a razor sharp boomerang protruding from his back.

All at once she was whole again. It was an unbelievable feeling, as though her whole identity had flooded back all in one, exalting her with pride, confidence, determination. The vigour of life returned, and she looked about her with new defiance.

The yellow-haired leader turned wildly- straight into the arcing path of Sokka's sword, which opened his throat.

In seconds the tiny path was a manic carnage of blood and motion and confusion. Men rushing all about obscured her vision; Sokka's deftly fighting form appeared intermittently between them.

Someone rushed at her, apparently from nowhere, spear levelled.

The earth erupted beneath him, two solid wedges charging out against his limbs like hammers, crushing bone- and then Toph had joined the fray.

With her hands bound, and no water in sight, Katara felt utterly helpless. The enormity of what was occurring suddenly began to become clear.

This was suicide!

But it was already over. Sixteen bodies lay about, bloodied and broken.

Relief flooded through her as Sokka, blood-drenched but wearing a dazzling smile, staggered over to her.

She turned so he could undo her bounds. His strong fingers were a comfort more than she could understand. He had given her back her whole life; he had returned.

She had thought him gone forever, but he had _returned_.

"Oh," she whimpered, choking on her own words, "Sokka, its wonderful to see you again! I thought you'd gone."

"It's great to see you too. So great… brilliant… really…"

The rope came loose and fell off her wrists. The strong fumbling fingers were gone.

She turned.

Sokka was on the ground.

It was only now that she realised how much of the blood on him was his own.

Her joy drained, replaced by dread. With a little gasp of anguish, she knelt beside him, taking up his hand in both of hers.

"Brother," she whispered, more affectionately than she could ever remember. "Brother, I'm so glad you're here now."

Sokka coughed and attempted a smile. "Lu said… _great intellects are sceptical_. I thought that was a compliment. But… wasn't too sceptical, was I? Just nodded at everything he said. As though I just… enjoyed the sound of his voice."

Katara's head shook, "No, no, don't talk like this Sokka. You are here now. You are with us…"

"No. No…" he choked- a miserable sound, and he clenched his sister's hand tighter.

"Oh. Sokka!" Tears spilled onto her cheeks. "You can't give up! You'll live. You_ must_ live."

"No. No chance…"

"Don't do this to me!"

Sokka groaned, his body trembling in its death throes, "I can barely see…"

He smiled a little, as though he were seeing- the smile of seeing a pretty sight, smelling a pretty scent, tasting a pretty texture. The smile of simple, calm contentment.

Then he seemed to jolt a little, as though he had re-entered his bodily cage, and it tortured him. Slowly he said,

"Is Aang alive?"

"I don't know. Stay with us, Sokka."

"I wanted… to be here for the attack…"

"It doesn't matter."

"But… but…"

She thought he was dead for a moment, and screamed, bending over him and kissing his forehead. Then he coughed again, and choked, his hand rattling in hers. His words came out as mumbles now, hoarse with the blood in his lungs.

"Promise… promise me. Look Katara- Sister..."

He seemed to gather strength here. "Sister, I made a terrible mistake. I was blinded. I thought I was… was wise… but I was being a fool. Promise me you will find Aang. Tell him… I am sorry."

Katara burst into racking sobs as she bent her head against his chest.

"But we lost, Sokka! We lost, in the end…"

"No… no." the brave peasant settled his head back against the earth. "As long… as Aang is alive… which he may be… we haven't… have not lost. Will you promise to get him. Will you promise."

"Yes. Yes of course I promise."

"I am… putting you back into danger…"

"It doesn't matter. You saved us. You gave…" her words faltered as she realised what they meant, and she held closer to him.

"Sokka. Please don't leave me."

Somewhere, a single bird sang. The sound of the ocean swam, gently, far away.

"Sokka…"

Toph came and sat beside her. A few tears were rolling, slowly, lazily, down her cheeks. With a melancholy that appeared to physically weigh down on her, she reached out and took up Sokka's other hand, feeling for a pulse.

"Sokka. Brother…"

"It's no good, Katara." whispered the blind girl. "He's gone. Dead…"

"No. No he isn't. I was just talking to him."

"He has passed away."

"He hasn't. I know he's with us!"

Toph stopped; her own affection overtook her, and she began to weep, long and hard.

"He has _gone_, Katara…" she said with a sympathy that was real, connected. "It is no good."

So they sat. And they cried. For a while there was nothing else.

Sokka deserved every tear they could summon for him.

Over an hour later, Toph said, her voice hoarse with sobs, "what do we do now, Katara!"

The reply had strength in it that surprised the blind girl. "We go back to the island. We find Aang. We fight this last battle."

**Still got nothing to say. What do you think of that scene? Sad? Mediocre? R&R and tell me.**


	26. Dinner and indecision

More torture in this chapter

**More torture in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

When Azula returned for her third session the next day, Aang was barely standing. His wrists were cut almost to the bone; a sure sign that he had collapsed several times during the night.

"I have a nice new game for us to play," the princess announced as she entered.

Swiftly she crossed behind him and tied a blindfold over his eyes, then undid his shackles from the ceiling.

Aang would have collapsed, if she hadn't held him. After a sleepless night of throbbing pain and the torture of standing, all he wanted was to lay down where he was.

"Stand." Azula ordered him.

So he stood.

He heard the heavy footfalls of the guard; silence.

Azula's voice echoed suddenly into the blackness and he cringed.

"You see…" he could hear her softly pacing. "I am not supposed to scar your face. Doubtless for some ostentatious promenade once all this is over."

He could almost picture the contemptuous gesture of the hand as she spoke these last, sharp words.

"Of course, any attempt to hit you straight on could be quite risky. Therefore, so long as you keep facing me, I can't do _this_."

He heard the snap of the whip after he felt it. Two savage leather tails, laced with steel wire, slashed open his back. He screamed as hard as he could and spun on his feet, almost dislodging himself.

She was pacing again and he realised with panic that only another blow could follow.

And another, and another…

"Mistress," he dared to ask- anything to stop the pain. "Mistress, what did you mean by 'all this'?"

She stopped. He almost gasped in relief.

"Why, the comet, of course."

"The comet is overhead?"

"Not yet, little boy." Aang could feel the presence of her sadistic smile as distinctly as if he had seen it before his very eyes. "Nearly, but not yet. I am… sure you will know when it is overhead."

And the whip cracked out again.

For some time she tortured him this way, lashing the whip against back and legs and chest. Every time Aang would stumble around, facing the direction he thought the blow had come from.

Soon she began to pace herself irregularly, so Aang could find no rhythm for him to tense to.

In minutes, the Avatar was drenched in blood.

"Stop!" she shouted, apparently at herself, and he understood for the first time the effect the comet must be having on her.

He could feel it himself now, buried beneath an ocean of pain- a slight, pins-and-needles tickling that seemed to be right in the blood.

She must have motioned, because he could hear the guard again.

He flinched as a rope was bound tightly around his ankles.

Azula coolly informed him that the game would now go on- but if he fell she would just keep hitting him until he could rise.

After less than a minute more of this treatment Aang was sure he was going to die. And his certainty increased with every blow; he knew that at some point he must just keel forwards and stop breathing, and then it would be over.

By some miracle he didn't fall. He stayed on his feet for every dread snap of the double-tailed lash.

Yet by the time she was done, the pain was such that he went on screaming long after she had replaced his shackles, and left.

--

The day had arrived again, after 100 years. Sozen's comet would be overhead from dusk until midnight.

To the casual eye, its closeness was almost unnoticeable at the banquet hall's vast dinner table. Indeed it should be, in the presence of such men as the cool, disciplined aristocrats of the Fire Nation.

But it remained; a subtle undercurrent of prickling tension, like a long-awaited deliverance finally come.

To any Firebender, its presence was as real and obvious as flames in a forest.

There were over one hundred of the Fire Nation elite at the table, all eating, drinking and conversing happily. Of petty squabbling over land or wealth, of formal business discussion, there was not a word heard. For that day, at least, every ambitious man in the world's largest nation was unified by one thing: the heady, intoxicating approach of Sozen's comet, the Fire Nation's most powerful weapon, that would end the war for all time.

All the elite, that is, save one.

Zuko could never understand why it seemed to affect him differently during the dinner, or when it finally arrived overhead.

Certainly his emotions were enhanced, as everyone else's were.

But, whereas in most cases it seemed to act as a sedative, dulling reason, slowing the mind, Zuko found that he had never been able to think or consider more clearly.

His mind moved as swiftly and logically from one point to another as any great philosopher of any era. It was incredible, but it was also somewhat scary.

For even as he sat at his father's right hand, and ate, and smiled courteously at whomever talked to him, he could feel his newly sharpened brain returning to the same point over and over:

_Why are you still loyal to these people? _

And, try as he might, the reasons against always won over the arguments for.

These people had no loyalty to him. Perhaps, as family, they deserved a degree of his loyalty. But they had proved, often without even an attempt at subtlety, that they neither wanted nor cared for it.

Being loyal to them suddenly seemed just the same as being loyal to the rebels. Their goals, their objectives, their morals, were different, and often contrasting. He could not follow himself and others when their paths led in different directions.

The honesty of this philosophy was to be punched home that very moment, when Azula arrived.

Her reason for being late was all too obvious.

At her feet, naked, hideously bloodied and scarred, was The Avatar.

On hands and knees he crawled along beside her, led by a collar around his neck, attached to a chain which Azula carried in her right hand.

Only Zuko and Lu appeared to find the scene sickening. The contrast alone was terrible to behold; Azula, tall, arrogant, triumphant; Aang, shrivelled, broken, defeated.

For a second only there was stunned silence, then the whole room erupted into thunderous applause.

_Like animals_, Zuko thought, as everywhere men, educated, upper class men, rose for a standing ovation.

Azula moved swiftly and surely, half dragging weak little Aang on the chain, to her seat opposite Zuko's. Taking in most of the slack, she tied the chain to the arm of her chair, before seating herself.

Her vicious eyes stared right across the table at him, with not an inch of respite; she no longer hid her enmity.

"Well," she said, with a voice that to anyone but her brother was courteous and appropriate, "this promises to be an eventful evening."

"Yes," Zuko agreed, his teeth grinding until they hurt, "yes, it does."

**A nasty chapter again. Things just starting to speed up again. The comet approaching… The girls approaching… the end approaching… **

**R&R. **


	27. The Aggressor

Nothing to say

**Nothing to say. Speechless…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

Dinner went on in a curious silence- an illusion of quiet. All around them jovial discussion continued; between the two siblings and their cousin, not a word was said. In this way they created their own little pocket of noiseless brooding, becoming almost completely detached from those around them.

In any other circumstance, it would have been impossible for the enmity to go unnoticed. It was probably the comet's allure alone that allowed the venom to be passed back and forth without drawing suspicion.

Everyone else was happy. Contented. The display of the Avatar had been a passing amusement, nothing more.

"So," said Azula suddenly, by means of introduction, "how do you find your re-acquaintance with the capital, cousin, after so many years away?"

She wore best the mask of formal courtesy- it became her just as easily as ever, because it was just another part of her game. She _enjoyed_ the trickery in it.

"Good. Very good," Lu returned, his teeth gritted slightly, "there are… one or two things a little different."

"Anything in particular?"

"Some practices."

Zuko, who was expending every ounce of his comet-dulled reason to keep himself civilised, glanced sideways at Lu.

The older man's hand trembled around the golden goblet.

Very slowly he put the goblet down on the table, and retracted his hand.

For a moment he seemed to forsake all reason, for he threw Azula such a blatantly contemptuous glare, and gripped the table so hard, that even the briefest glance would have noticed it.

Then he stood- one brisk, abrupt movement that almost swept a heavily laden tray from the hands of an attendant; thanked Ozai, the host, briefly; tossed around a quick, artificial smile, and left.

As Lu walked, Zuko dared not look into his sister's eyes. For if he did, he knew he would see there that characteristic glimmer of sadistic triumph, tucked away so carefully that only he could detect it…

--

Zuko was obliged to stay seated as his cousin left. To stand at such a formal occasion was considered great insult. No-one seemed to have noticed, however. Clearly, the power of the comet had put flight to all memory of formal etiquette.

The prince was tense and uneasy for the rest of the evening- it was apparent in everything he did. He tried to remain collected, but he could not shake the feeling that he was sitting in a wired trap. Azula had already captured Lu; in this psychological game she was playing, to make such a calm, reasoned character leave the table was a serious victory.

She had struck down one obvious rival. One figure she knew was against her. Now only one more remained, in direct line of sight.

Zuko knew his situation was appalling. His newly honed thoughts struggled desperately to find some way out.

The problem was, there seemed to be no solution. At least, not for him. He knew already that he could not play the political game like Azula did. He could not use her tactics against her.

But he had to do _something_. Doing nothing was already not an option. He was tense, anxious, nervous. He knew it, and his sister must know it also. So he was already giving her what she wanted.

But what could he do? He had no objective here, no clear goal. He wished only for the game to end.

It was a seemingly unsolvable enigma, one which he pondered for over an hour. Course after course was served, and each time the increasingly rowdy aristocrats tucked in more energetically than before.

All except Zuko, who barely touched his food. And Azula, who could not help but stare across the table, so satisfied was she with the havoc she had wreaked.

--

"It is there! I see it! I can see the comet!"

Along one wall of the banquet room was a row of spacious balconies built solely for tonight's display.

It was to these, and the servant's call, that the aristocrats now hurried.

Zuko watched distractedly. He had no wish to see the comet. He must be the only one. Even Lord Ozai's slow, measured strides betrayed his impatience.

In seconds the balconies were choked with the Fire Nation Elite, clambering to see over one another.

Wearily Zuko approached, and looked.

In the sky, barely brighter than a star and hovering ever so gently along, was Sozen's comet.

The rush of the comet appeared to have peaked; men appeared giddy not just with the wine. Every eye was fixed on that one point of light above them.

Except Azula's. She was watching her brother; drinking up his torment.

A thought crossed her mind, filling her with new invigoration as she felt once again the coldness of the chain in her hand. Turning, she tugged Aang's leash mercilessly and made for the door.

Zuko saw her leave.

Ozai had reached the balcony rail. Even under the influence of the comet the lords had the good sense to move for him.

For a moment he stood unmoving, his eyes to the dark sky. Then one hand raised, the palm open, and it seemed almost that he could reach out and snatch Sozen's Comet from its place among the heavens, and hold its splendour in his hand.

Then a blanket of fire, white with heat and radiance, erupted outwards.

It was the most spectacular display any Firebender of their generation had ever seen.

It roared- a huge sound. Its blinding incandescence jarred the senses as it expanded, covering every inch of sky.

Upward and upward, outward and outward it burned, without a sign of slowing, until it shone like a beacon in the sky from one side of the island to the other.

The aristocrats were captured in awe. No-one could have foretold the bestowing of such awesome power by the comet. With this, the Fire Lord, the greatest of his craft, was like a god.

No-one dared speak.

Slowly, reluctantly Ozai's hand lowered, and the flame petered to a stop. Its frightening heat still seemed to hang in the air.

Then he turned, sinews taut, eyes blazing, and addressed the audience, his very voice burning like fire:

"It is at an end.

Even as I speak, our armies advance on the last traces of Earth Kingdom resistance, crushing all in their paths. You have seen the power of the comet; now picture that across the wide expanse of the globe. The roar of flame everywhere, all-consuming, unstoppable.

You see, all in the end must come to fire. Rock will melt, water will sizzle and turn to mist. Our every enemy is no more.

And why did we win? It is simple. Because we are fire. The eternal aggressor. We have always attacked, always struck out- therefore we had to win. For you see, the defensive Earth Kingdom, or the evasive Water Tribes, are meaningless before this. Their elements are weak, because they are rigid, immobile. Only fire can conquer as we have; nothing can defend forever.

And now, because we are fire, the _living_ element, the aggressor, we have conquered all. And by the right of conquest us- all of us- have this chance to _create. _Does burned soil not grow fertile crop?

Look at our metropolis. Look at what we have built here. It is now, my friends of the Fire Nation, that we give our architecture, our science and art, our prosperity, our growth, our genius, to the world.

It is at an end. But when one thing ends, another has to begin.

So let it be remembered, then: This day is the day of the end of the Four Kingdoms. But it is also the beginning of the long reign of the Fire Nation!"

The cheer that went up was deafening- to all that heard it.

For Zuko did not. He had not, in fact, heard the closing half of his father's speech.

For as Ozai spoke, and his highly focused mind worked, Zuko had come by a revelation.

He and his sister were like the war.

She was the aggressor- she had been from the start. Always she sought to trick him, defeat him, crush him beneath her.

Always he struggled valiantly to stop it happening. She was like fire, expanding, consuming, and he was earth or water, with no option but to defiantly hold it back.

He was, therefore the defender. He knew strategy well enough: A defender in an evenly sided war had to win every major battle to stay alive- one defeat would lead to conquest.

The aggressor could lose continually, for their land was unthreatened and they knew they could always recover and try again. They needed to win only one battle.

That was what Azula was doing. She needed win only one battle over him, and the throne was hers.

The solution was suddenly simple. Had always been simple. For all his hot-temperedness, his anger, his aggression, he had never been truly like fire.

He needed to be now. He needed to tap that innate ferocity, be consuming, but also raw, unfocused and primal.

The problem was less complex than he thought, and one obvious solution presented itself.

Without a second thought, the comet's power pulsing unexpectedly through him, he turned on his heel and made for the double doors.

--

In the Fire Nation Capital, almost every man, woman and child had seen Ozai's white-hot conflagration engulf the sky. They had all gathered to see the comet.

Not the very same occurrence, had so many people gathered together in silence.

But with so many eyes to the sky- and, indeed, nothing to worry about, with such a deadly ally up there- the guards must have seemed quite the fools when a small Water Tribe boat ran up on the shore by the Fire Nation palace for a second time.

**A ****very**** talkative chapter. Was it boring? R&R. **


	28. Last reunion?

The end is near…

**The end is near… **

**Not much left to go now.**

**But first, one more gentle moment…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

So many words. So much to say. Hours, endless hours, he had spent considering this moment. Searching for the right words. For what does a man say when he comes back from the dead?

Did he apologise?

Was he joyful or solemn?

He had no idea. This was one side of merry Uncle Iroh that he had never seen.

But he had to choose. He must speak now. _But what did he say?_

It was curious, that for all his eloquence and articulation, every one of those many, many words failed him that night, when he felt he needed them most, and all he could utter was a strangled whisper of

"Father…"

The grey head, shaggy and long, turned slowly. Lu crouched by the bars. Then his father's gaze was upon him, and he realised he had no need for any words. The soft blue eyes had the same caring warmth that they had always possessed. Even despite his death, Iroh had always been there for him.

The old man smiled.

"I am dreaming."

"You are not dreaming. This is real."

"If only, my son. If only, Lu…"

Lu felt tears in his eyes. He hadn't cried since… since he had left. Now he was returning.

"I am here father. Come to me. I am here."

The solemn head shook "You cannot be. You died, my Lu Ten. I saw your body. I lit your pyre."

"Come to me. Touch me. This is real."

"I wept over you…"

"I lived. I am here."

Iroh was walking slowly forwards, shuffling, step by step,

"I stopped the attack…"

"I am _here_."

Iroh was at the bars. Lu watched with indescribable feelings as his father's left hand reached out, the backs of his fingers brushing his son's cheek. The older man's touch was like a rebirth. A Lu Ten that had died in the ashes of that counterfeit funeral had sprung out again.

The Lu Ten of simple things: The joys of philosophy, the honour of battle, the virtues of family. The hand began to drift away; he took it in his own and held it. A side of Lu Ten that had been drowned for so long in deceit and deception.

A light seemed to appear in Iroh's eyes then. Lu saw a whole future in that light. An escape, an end. He was with Iroh again. His father.

The Dragon of The West smiled, weak but meaningful. "How did you survive?" he asked pathetically.

Lu answered with equal lameness. "I met… captured… an Earth Kingdom man who had learned to sculpt a face from clay. I used it to fake my body."

"That's impossible." replied his father, "some-one would have noticed."

"My lieutenant knew about it. He carried it. Other than him, you were the only one who went near the fake body…"

"I would have noticed…"

"You were supposed to. You must have been crying too much."

"Oh!" Iroh gave a loud, passionate sob- but it was more like a laugh.

There was a short silence. They felt each-other's hands trembling as they clung to one another still through the bars.

Iroh sniffed, "Why?"

Lu shrugged inadequately, "The Nation needed a spy. Some-one who could talk… and lie. Who better than a dead man?"

He looked away, "I am sorry…"

"It's okay."

These words alone gave Lu the strength to look back again. He saw not a hint of rejection in his father's comforting gaze.

Lu hadn't seen this man in… years. That Iroh didn't press the matter was touching. Lu realised, truly, for the first time, that all the old man's somewhat agitating habits; his flippancy, and optimism, his compulsive need for tea; all added up to nothing in the face of such open caring. Lu Ten knew then and there, with a great deal of respectful pride, that he himself would never have been capable of such genuine forgiveness.

A powerful silence wore on, but it seemed there was no desire to break it. father and son were united. Neither one looked for anything further.

Then Iroh said, with startling passion, "Seeing you again, Lu, has completed my life."

Lu choked. His own emotion was surprised him.

"Then why not leave?" he proposed suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"That _is_ what I mean. Now I am here again… We could go and live together, alone." He smiled feebly. "Live in the wilderness. Then we could sit round fires and discuss philosophy."

"Yes," agreed Iroh, smiling, "Debate until the world is old. And plenty for me to eat…"

"And plenty to talk about. Why not just disappear? Escape all of these lies and deceits? What is there here for us?"

"Would you really want that?"

"Yes, father- more than you realise. More than I realised, until I met… someone."

"Aang…"

"Yes. He makes a simple, repetitive life seem strangely attractive, eh? No idea how. He would never have it."

"Yes, I think he would," said Lu distantly. "That is what he really wants. Just to travel around. To meet and make friends, see places, all again and again until his death. Nothing to struggle against, no-one to lie to. And that is what I would like, after all these years of fighting. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

Iroh leaned on the bars, his smile now firmly irremovable. "I had never expected this of you, Lu. Becoming a hermit like your father?"

"It was always a secret passion of mine. You spiteful old man."

And they laughed. They laughed and laughed. What else were they to say? For such a reunion has more power than words can express- and laughter often has more power than any other sound.

When they had finally finished, and their eyes were tearful with their laughing, Iroh suddenly sobered. There was something else in his eyes now; the barest spark.

"But have you considered what you would be leaving?"

Lu shrugged. "I have considered. All I can see is lies, treachery, deceit, subterfuge, conspiracy."

He sighed and leaned against the bars himself, putting less than an inch between them. Their physical closeness was reassuring.

"Almost a year ago I joined the chase for the Avatar. It was exciting at first but only at first. Day after weary day passed, just trailing him.

Then I caught up with him. I had always known my task would be difficult, but not in the ways I had expected. Aang was so trusting. That made it easier. But in some ways, it made it harder also…

And I told so many lies. I was- quite literally- living a lie. My reasoning told me I was obliged to do this. For duty. Had this boy not destroyed half a fleet?"

"Yes," whispered Iroh, "but that was war. In war, does one murder justify another?"

Lu nodded his understanding. He had felt exactly the same words.

"Now the Avatar is captured and helpless. The comet has ended the war. Even now I- and no doubt you- can feel it. It felt good at first. Now it is like a torrent of insanity."

"The two are often difficult to differentiate," Iroh agreed. "Madness can be a type of pleasure."

"But all my duty was misplaced," continued Lu bitterly. "Azula is insane. I do not attempt to ponder the thought of what a world empire will be like, but with her on the throne, it is all too obvious…

But then, Ozai knows this. He must know what she is doing; that she is attempting to eliminate her brother, your nephew. And he allows it, as some sort of twisted test. It is all insane, father!"

"Indeed. The result of one hundred years of war, I think. No matter the discipline or the technology, for whatever reasoning, in the end, war breeds only chaos."

"Well said."

They pondered their own thoughts for several moments. In this distant prison tower the comet seemed emotionally as well as physically more distant. That felt good. Outside, Lu had almost forgot what it felt like to be without it…

All at once he felt a squeeze on his left hand. He looked down. His father's hand was still clenched around his own.

Iroh's eyes were closed, his lips set.

Lu's breath caught in his throat. There was so much weariness in that lined face…

Slowly Iroh's eyes opened, and he stared at his son with a kind of loving sympathy. Then he said quietly.

"But that wasn't what I meant when I asked. I meant, 'have you considered what you are _abandoning_?'"

Now Lu's grip tightened.

He gazed at his father with new awe. The Dragon of The West's free hand rested on the bars now. Lu watched as the cold steel glowed suddenly white with the burning heat, and began to melt away.

Their faces were just an inch apart. Iroh said,

"What you said is true. _Almost_ true. You have forgotten one thing, my young son. It is not _all_ insane. Now there is Aang in there as well, and he is a gold ring in a swamp. And your cousin, Zuko, whose honour is like a beacon in a valley of mist. To leave them is to abandon them to their fate."

There was a large hole in the bars. Iroh stood smoothly and, without releasing his son's hand, stepped through.

"With the comet," he continued, "We have perhaps the slimmest chance to rescue them. We would almost definitely die, however…"

"Father," Lu interrupted, "If this is what you think we should do, then we do it. I follow you."

"No, my son." Iroh put his hand up. "You will make the decisions this time, for it was my choice to make the move that I thought had killed you.

As I say, the comet is here, and we have that barest sliver of a chance at victory, in whatever form.

But if you wish to follow your own course, I will go also. There is no loss of honour in this decision. It is not discreditable to refuse to rush to your death."

The two hands parted. They needed no physical connection anymore.

Lu stood still and stiff, considering. Finally he answered:

"I never saw it that way, Iroh. For that I am fool enough, but there is something else. Aang- or Zuko- would have seen that immediately. To them, the question would from the beginning be, 'what are you abandoning' rather than leaving.

So they are better men than I already. And they both deserve the trust they put in me- are the only ones who ever deserved it, save for you. You said there was no loss of honour. But there are two good men to lose. And-"

He cut off suddenly, and stared remotely away, his head slightly tilted. It was as though he had found, to his joy, a firm conclusion on at least one matter. In a world of shifting chaos, he had discovered one firm, absolute truth.

He went on, his voice filled with pride:

"It seems the world would be better if bad men gave their lives for the good men who show them the way. Who do so much for them without thought of return. It is so unfitting that it is often the other way around…"

"That is what makes them good men. One more time then?"

"One more time, father."

Lu smiled, more at ease than ever before.

"And after that, we will find the most remote mountain in the Fire Nation, climb right to the top, and never come down again. Clear?"

Iroh smiled. "Yes, general. Clear."

**A very emotional scene. Well-written? Just boring? **

**R&R.**


	29. The Fall of Ozai's Heir

Sorry I took so long updating this time

**Sorry I took so long updating this time. I have no excuses. It may be another fortnight or so before I update again, because I'm going to try and right all the final chapters first, so I can keep the pace up by posting one a night. Ok?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

"You are starting to sound like a prophet."

"No, I'm just using my reason and my instinct."

"How can you know they will be here?"

"Aang was not killed right before them. They don't know if he lives. Now, Zuko and I chased those children a long time. If there's one thing I can be fairly certain of, it's this."

--

It surprised Katara not at all that the threatening presence of Sozen's comet did not distract her or her friend. Though the comet is an object of Fire, it is true that every element affects every other. So, she, as much as the Firebenders, could feel the comet's lethal powers, except that to her it was withering; fire creates steam.

But she didn't care. It made no difference how strong her

waterbending was. She was going to die in one final attempt for Aang. No matter her bending aptitude, she could not hope to fight her way to him.

So what did it matter if she was weaker than usual?

_Curious_, she considered, _that my thoughts are so relaxed_. They were almost amusing to her; like a somewhat sardonic interest that comes from looking upon another's discomfort. What did it matter that she died now? No brother left to mourn her passing. No cause left to stay alive for. She had no cause to be scared. No cause to feel anything.

What truly startled her was Toph's reaction. Whereas Katara had submitted to resigned acceptance of the truth, Toph seemed truly to believe that they still had a chance.

Katara smiled. It was just like her to show blind tenacity in the face of impossible odds.

There were no sentries at all this time. What need was there? This day was the most unlikely date for an invasion in one hundred years.

The two girls got to the gates unopposed. They were not even closed.

But there was still a barrier, of sorts. They had no idea what to do next.

--

Aang screamed louder and harder than he had ever before. Azula screamed with him, revelling in his pain. This was life! To torture, to dominate wholly and absolutely, was a thrill set apart; but with the comet roaring overhead, the feeling was otherworldly.

With a shriek of pure ecstasy she drew back. Aang sagged, whimpering and begging, drenched in sweat.

There was a voice from behind. Through waves of pleasure it sounded small, insubstantial.

"I'm… I'm leaving, Azula. I can't watch this anymore. This is not pleasure; this is just monstrous. I'm going."

In effect, Aang saved the courageous man's life. Only the lure of his pain kept Azula from swivelling on the spot and reducing the guard to charred remains for such impudence.

The door clanged open. Forgetting her first ever defection in a second, she advanced on Aang again. Her reason told him his mind would crack soon- he would become a shivering, meaningless wreck, no fun to torture- but even if she could have listened to her reason, she would have chosen not to.

Something did stop her, though. With the door left open she had not heard him enter. His voice echoed around the chamber now, one word: "Stop."

The voice of her bastard brother: Zuko.

She turned. He stood there, straight and tall- a warrior's self-confident stance- unflinching, gazing at her with neither anger nor contempt.

Through such a haze the comet cast, she did not detect the substitute for these emotions- a business like acceptance. In truth, she wasn't really thinking at all. There was something vaguely pleasing about the whole situation. Here she was with the Avatar- Zuko's intended prize, his goal for over a year.

His goal, now _hers_. Hers to own, to control, to dominate. He had no power over either of them. His expressions were futile!

He started walking. He came right up to her.

"Zuko!" she could not hold her tongue. "I told you this would be an eventful evening."

"So it shall be."

"Come to watch the show?"

"I have come to kill you."

She cackled. The depth of what he said, what he _meant_, had no impression on her whatsoever. "Oh, you are, brother? Going to fight me, in fair combat? Going to challenge me to an Agni-Kai?"

She should have sobered herself then. Her instinct speaking told her this was serious, so, so serious.

She knew Zuko's habits. He was always flustered when he was angry. When he was angry he acted out of self-righteousness: an easily dominated foe. He was pale now. Cold and pale.

But here, in this junction of decision, the most important of her life, she failed to act. Half her brain was still on Aang and his intoxicating screams. Most of the other half was left to Zuko. But somewhere, a very small part of her reminded her that she had the choice to act. Entirely of her own bidding, she denied that choice.

Zuko shook his head slowly, his callous significance lost on her, and began to quote Fiang:

"The Path of Righteousness is the only path… The only path to which there is no dead end. For if a man's live is what creates his death, a man of virtue cannot, by any means, die in vice. But a liar dies in lies; a trickster dies in tricks. A traitor dies in betrayal."

She barely glimpsed what happened next. Her brother's strong fingers grabbed her left shoulder. A flash of metal. She was aware of a cold pressure between her ribs.

She staggered, failed to right herself, and dropped to her knees. Her own lifeblood poured over her hands. _Yes_, she thought, ludicrously and ineptly, _this would be so pleasurable. I will do this next. Do this to Aang. To watch his blood gush out of him would be, would be… _

And then, in the very millisecond that separated her and death, experience from emptiness, she had one other thought; the thought of all evil entities, their final judgement, that ensures they die a mournful death. A thought that encompassed her entire being, and for that slightest time only, _became_ her:

_What have I done?…_

_--_

The tall, proud profile of Ozai the Fire Lord was easily distinguishable from the other aristocrats on the balconies.

In order to achieve the best view of the comet, the balconies were positioned facing directly towards the main gate. Even with their necks craned upward, and their senses alive with the power of Sozen's comet, it was difficult to believe that none of 100 aristocrats would notice them, the only movement in a still, silent garden.

They also had no knowledge of where Aang was. They had assumed him to be deep in the palace; an underground chamber, perhaps. But there was no way they could search the entire complex without being spotted.

"Any ideas?" Toph asked, leaning on the gates.

"No. None."

The earthbender didn't realise that she only had even been thinking of "ideas" at all. Katara felt no need for strategy.

"What's the plan, then?"

"I say we rush in there, kill anyone who comes at us, and then keep on killing them until they are all dead and we can search in peace."

Toph grinned. "I like that. It has the advantage of simplicity."

Katara did not return the smile. Her face was pale and strained, and, most disconcertingly of all, lacking even a droplet of passion in her blue eyes.

Slowly it dawned on the young earthbender, new and unreal. A thought she had never considered; that had no place in her mind.

She swallowed "You don't think we can win, do you? That… that this is the end…"

Katara made a small humph sound in the back of her throat.

"This is the end, Toph," she said softly. "There is no need for any more hard decisions."

"But how can you say we've lost? We haven't tried."

Katara dropped her head to her chest. "If you wish to leave, Toph, go ahead. You don't owe us anything. Certainly not your life. But I'm doing this for Aang-"

Toph cut in with a vehemence Katara had never expected. "But what do you think _I'm _fighting for!"

She stopped lamely. Katara watched her sadly, with regret, with respect.

"I wouldn't be here if not for Aang."

"Wouldn't be on your death bed?"

"Wouldn't be _here_," she continued with passion- not anger but passion, real feeling. "I would still be a poor pathetic blind girl, trapped in a house- a prison without bars."

She sobbed. "And if somebody had told me I would end up here, about to sacrifice my life for him, I'd still have come along with you. Because, you see, before Aang, I wasn't really alive at all. I was just dreaming, just drifting. Aang did more than just save my life, he _created _it. He is my creator. My life began with him. It should end with him, too."

She stopped abruptly, feebly. She was no orator. All the same, Katara was in tears. "That's how I feel," she said wonderingly, "exactly how I felt. Before Aang there was just snow and work and trying to feed ourselves. Then he came,"

She smiled. "with his foreign accent, and talent for trouble and agitating the grown-ups. But he was new. He was different. And he was so friendly, to complete strangers. Like he had always been their- our- friend, without us knowing.

And now- well, now I think it's even more than that. For Aang, then?"

"For Aang."

Katara looked back up now, her cheeks tear-stained, and looked at Toph; and for the first time Toph seemed to look right back into her, through and above her blindness.

They had discovered mutual understanding. They were connected now, these two girls from different countries and different classes, in one respect- the most important and all-encompassing aspect of them all. The choice of how they died. And how they had lived.

"On three, then," Toph said. "Why not on three?"

They stood abreast on the threshold of the gates. All their senses seemed to hone in on this one moment. Everything else, everything meaningless and unnecessary, receded. They were scared, but it was a manageable fear. A physical fear only.

Somewhere a man's voice rang out.

Toph licked her dry lips. "One."

Katara whispered, "Head straight for the main entrance, underneath the balconies…"

"Two…"

The man called again.

She closed her eyes briefly. "And I'll see you on the other side."

A hand grabbed her shoulder.

**Ok, so a little less happened in this chapter than I wanted to happen. Oh well. **

**R&R. If you can. **


	30. Noble sacrifice

Climax approaching

**Climax approaching. I promise to update again tomorrow. I've got the chapter ready and everything. **

**I have a small disgrace here. I don't usually use the "power of fortune" in my stories. No-one wants to read about a victory achieved by nothing but good luck. However, in a desperate attempt to justify it to myself, I do point out that this is only a minor part of the story, and this is the only time I have played the "fate" card in the story. **

**I hope you accept my sincerest apologies. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

The power of chance is undeniable. It plays a part in everything a person does.

It is, perhaps, only at the end of one's life that a person, such as Katara or Toph, standing, waiting, as they were, can truly appreciate the part it has played in their life. Surrounded by so much torment, their misfortune was all too obvious. Only the cruellest, most unjust chain of events could have forced them into such a situation. In such a position it is always easy to miss good luck when it happens.

Katara missed it.

She was primed, tense, alert, ready. Every nerve in her body was coiled in preparation for the fight to come; however inevitable the outcome. What's more, she was sure in the belief that with the exception of Toph beside her, every single person for miles around was an enemy.

So it was reasonable, from any perspective, to assume that she would have spun round and struck that man dead on the spot.

But she didn't. By fate alone, she started, turned, shrugging the hand viciously away; but held back.

There were two men before them.

Lu Ten and General Iroh; father and son.

Now it was will that held Katara firm. _This was the man that betrayed us. Betrayed Aang! _She could counter this screaming consideration with no other thought. For several seconds it dominated her mind, and, though Lu was surely far above her skill with the comet as his aide, she wished only to fling open her water skin and attack him with every fibre of her being.

"You betrayed us," she uttered through her teeth.

Something had held her back. Though she could feel the simplicity in just giving in, just launching herself into the attack, it occurred to her that if Lu had wanted to kill her, he would have.

And she had no wish to kill anyone. Especially not someone she had known. A suicide attack was different; she would have no time to mourn her actions.

"I did," he agreed, his eyes never leaving hers. "And I am sorry for that. I have come back, to try for redemption."

He stopped, suddenly; as though he felt more, but couldn't say it. Or even felt that he needn't.

"I can't think of anything else to say," he finished.

"I will always hate you." 

"That I can understand."

"I hope you also understand why we will always be enemies."

"That also."

They finished speaking with completion. They had agreed, they understood one another perfectly; there was nothing more to be said or explained between them.

For his betrayal- his betrayal of Aang- retribution against Lu Ten was one of Katara's very first priorities. An unmoving constant in her mind. But for the moment, Aang was more important. More important than anything. An overriding factor.

Had that been what held her back?

"Aang is being held in a metal chamber at the farthest south-west corner of the gardens," said Lu abruptly, " it is right up against the wall."

"How far?" Toph cut in, with energy. Hope was restored.

"Half a mile or less."

"Would anyone spot us?"

"Almost definitely."

Silence returned. They were back where they had started. Above them, the comet glared down, its single bright eye proud and triumphant.

Iroh's calm, comforting voice materialised politely. "If we need a distraction- which we do- I am quite willing to rush in there setting fire to everything." He chuckled. "I once said to a fortune teller I only had one big surprise left in my life. I must say, I was wrong. _This_ I never saw coming."

"But you aren't going to be the distraction," said Toph suddenly, wonderingly. "I am."

"You're not!" said Katara with meaning and desperation. "You can't!"

"I have to be."

The Dragon of The West watched her with a sad but respectful regret. It was in his eyes that he had conceded. Toph didn't need to see it, she _felt_ it. Without even her special sense, she felt it.

It was ruefully clear in his soft words, "And how do you justify that, young Earthbender? I am old and wrinkled, but you have your whole life."

"You gave me tea," said Toph sadly. "And _very_ good advice."

And she rushed into the night.

**The Chapters are likely to be shorter as we approach the end… which we are. **

**Also, these are the last chapters. I have proved that I am completely spineless, so all I can do is humbly beg that you review for the last chapters. I know you're there because of your naughty story alerts… so, please, review and tell me how this is. **


	31. Final chance

On, on and on

**On, on and on!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender **

As blind Toph rushed recklessly, carelessly, heroically into the night, Katara stared blankly after her.

The audacious move had registered but not been fully comprehended- Katara expected to glance the blind Earthbender at her side at any moment. Because to do so would be to sever her only connection with reality; with people as a universal. With her death imminent, no-one but those closest to her had any bearing.

And Sokka, her brother, was gone. Aang, she was sure she would never see again. If Toph went now also, Katara would die wholly alone- forgotten, uncared for.

"We need to move," said Lu suddenly.

"But… Toph…"

"Do you want to waster the only chance she gave us?" he said fiercely.

The reasoning was sound. Utterly sound. But unacceptable. Toph…

Katara could feel herself breaking down. "But- But-" She looked vaguely around.

Lu swallowed; seemed almost to choke. "Katara. Katara, listen! Toph just gave her life for us. You cannot squander that now. To run after her and die with her, would be only a defiance! Will you not fulfil her dying wish?"

"But she just _ran out_!" She turned savagely, "You, old man! You could have done it! You said it yourself! Why didn't you do something-"

"There was nothing Iroh could have done!" Lu interjected, more angrily than he had intended.

Iroh waved him down with a placating gesture.

Katara was near hysterics.

"You could have gone out instead!" She screamed, "You could have stopped her or talked her out of it. You're just an evil, selfish, lazy old man!"

There was a second's silence as Katara realised the depth of her lies.

"If that is truly what you believe," said Iroh at last, rather quietly, "then I will happily run out and join Toph in her dying wish. If you desire it."

Katara stopped. Iroh's imperceptible quality, so soft and tender, yet so concise and uniformly meaningful brought all she had said back upon her.

"No," she said lamely. "No, I do not wish it. I'm sorry."

"Then let's go," said Lu from the background.

His face was indistinguishable in the darkness. "It is only a short run to the chamber. Let us hope Azula is not inside."

--

It is ironic, that the very thing that had ensured the fire nation's victory; had gifted them with such power; had augmented Azula's sadistic pleasure; was also probably the only thing that kept Aang from going mad with the pain- or dying from it.

For the Avatar, who is the human incarnation of everything, the whole world, is a part of fire- so the incredible

dulling-enhancing effects of Sozen's comet held him to life.

This brief period that passed before Katara healed him, he spent in a kind of conscious delirium. Things happened but they had no impression on him. He felt no proper emotion. Why should he? Nothing mattered anymore.

The first thing he was aware of was the absence of pain. After such continual agony, in a form very close to its purest, to be without it was startling in itself; like being reincarnated into an entirely new person.

Someone was speaking to him, in a voice he recognised from somewhere or other. He didn't care to comprehend the words. He didn't dare open his eyes.

There was a brief pressure on his slashed wrists. He screamed. Carefully he felt himself laid against the floor. The hard stone on his open wounds was excruciating and he went on screaming until he was turned on his side.

Some time passed then. He may have been being comforted. Someone must have been there throughout, because occasionally he heard footsteps. Pacing- a sign of deliberation. And there his thought trail ended.

Some time later- it could not have been long- He heard other voices. Again he thought he recognised them. One, most of all, he relished and anticipated. It was a girl's voice, shrill and fierce with shouting, but somehow enticing. He clung to her every word, because it comforted him for reasons he could not conjure.

The shouting went on for a long time. He made not a noise throughout. He just listened.

Apart from the comforting voice, there was a more powerful, commanding one, young but with passion. Also a more reasoned voice that he felt inexplicably he had trusted a great deal once. And the voice of calm. The voice of peace. If the world could be that way!

And for a second he glimpsed everything that he had fought for, then he faded back into his cocoon of delirium and semi-consciousness.

Finally the argument seemed to resolve itself. Blissful quiet returned.

Fingers touched his hair and he moaned: an instinctively developed reflex, a presupposition of pain that must surely follow touch, in the world Azula had created for him.

Someone speaking desperately, imploringly, passionately to him; then several voices the same. They sounded as though they needed him so much…

He didn't answer.

A wound on his stomach was brushed; he screamed again. An angry remark.

Something wet dripped onto his face. Tears? He didn't care.

Then that comforting voice echoed softly out, straight into his ear. And in the voice was the passion of the soul; a love drawn from deep within, a power beyond the physical world of sense and barrier.

It ran gently through him, empowering him; such meaning in words is achievable only when the soul speaks the words as well.

"Aang. Aang… It's Katara. Are you going to abandon me?"

He remembered her name.

Those words had carried all of Katara's life. Life is everything one knows, everything one has ever experienced; so in one sentence she bestowed upon Aang everything that she was. That is how she healed him. In a way that no waterbending ever could.

Opening his eyes, he looked up into her face.

**R&R please. I may (hopefully not) have to go back on my promise and wait a few days before reviewing again. I am moving house. Absolute mayhem reigns supreme.  
**


	32. Battle is joined

I haven't abandoned you

**I haven****'****t abandoned you! Really sorry for such a huge delay. I hadn****'****t intended it to take so long to get the internet running at new house, so by the time it was I was on holiday. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender. **

The true warrior can drop into a fighting stance at any moment that it is desired. And not just physically. The master of his art can, by his own will, force all emotion, all fear, from his mind as he prepares to battle.

Cool collectiveness is all that remains. Though passion is a great ally, fear has no place in combat.

Toph, a blind Earthbending girl, was such a warrior. Her impending death held no shadow over her because she had pushed it all into the farthest recesses of her mind.

All that remained was the calm, focused "obstinato rigore" of a master Earthbender.

Crouching in the night shrouded garden, Toph summoned up every ounce of her strength, and launched it all in one fearsome attack.

--

Aang hadn't eaten in at least a day.

Katara had never seen him so frail.

He had always been small; but he had also been vibrant. His energy and liveliness made him appear physically stronger than he was.

After so much incentive to practice, Katara's healing skills had grown prodigious. But in healing Aang she had competed with a triple-pronged barrier: the lack of water from her water-skin; the fact that some of Aang's wounds were already half closed and would not heal properly; and the mocking, distracting presence of Sozen's Comet. However hard she tried, Aang was far from his strongest.

Though his wounds were healed, that energy that had once driven him had been sapped away, and Katara knew she was not skilled enough to replace it. Without his tattoos it would have been impossible to discern him from an ordinary boy.

Except that he hadn't surrendered. A spark of defiance remained; the uncompromising need to set things right, to return things to the way they were and they way they should be. Though he seemed ready to collapse at any minute, it instilled even Katara with a glimmer of hope, to see that he hadn't given up in these, the final moments of their lives.

And, deeper still, deeper than anyone there could see, a final, ally had bloomed. It had no physical strength; it could not rejuvenate him.

But the realisation was enough to put energy back in his limbs: this was the final chance at redemption. He said nothing, but he could feel his body failing. He was sure he would not survive this. Which made it easier. All limitations were gone. In the face of his own death, a man finds even the impossible little barrier.

--

The air was all at once filled with the offensive wail of grinding stone. In a deafening array of sound the entire west side of the palace seemed to twist and contort unnaturally, cracks rippling across its surface as the balconies split and began to fall away from the main complex.

Chunks of masonry, large and small, fell all about as the aristocrats hurried to escape the collapsing balconies. Plaster and dust billowed out, shrouding the balconies in a fog of destruction.

There was pandemonium. But only for a moment. The effects of Sozen's Comet may be intoxicating, degenerating the intellectual side of the mind; but its purpose is destruction and to that end all the primal senses and the warlike instincts of man are enhanced. Only nine aristocrats of the hundred failed to escape the chaos.

Toph watched in silent readiness as the dust began to settle. One of the massive balconies had broken away and fell to earth with the loudest noise Toph had ever heard, but two remained, crooked and lopsided in their warped and frayed wall.

And standing on the centre balcony, with all the arrogance of a man who sees himself as a constant, an eternal, the prime mover, was Fire Lord Ozai, straight and unafraid.

Even without her sight, Toph could estimate the power and fearlessness of that stance. This man, swamped by the power of his greatest weapon, thought himself a God. Wielding that power, he could have been close.

She could just detect the swift motion of his arm as he pointed to her; she had the inarguable realisation that he was looking straight at her.

Then the flames erupted forwards. They were like nothing she had felt before. From Ozai's outstretched fingers a gaping tunnel of fire burst forth, flowing not flickering and abrupt, but as substantial and heavy as water or gravel.

The intensity was such that for a moment even The Blind Bandit faltered. At the last moment Toph threw up a cocoon of earth and stone around herself. The fire struck and for a second it felt so heavy and weighty that it would simply plough through her barrier of earth. She could feel the raging heat beat against her shield. It was all she could do to keep the wall of earth from collapsing in on top of her under the weight.

Uproar as the attack ceased. Throwing back her wall of earth, she observed the last of the aristocrats- great firebenders, one and all- rushing from sight at the balconies. About her, the verdant garden was trickling with flames; Ozai's attack had wreaked havoc, as intended. Soon the stark black sky, with its comet of white, would compete with the coppery red of a raging fire.

--

Above all this, like a single shining eye in the night, Sozen's Comet peered down upon the scene, awaiting the fate of the world…

_**Obstinato Rigore,**_** which translates (obviously) as obstinate rigour, was Leonardo Da Vinci's chief expression. The twin concepts of never giving up, and working hard and constantly to achieve success, were key to his character. **

**Why do I keep saying all these random things?**

**R&R please.**


	33. Endgame

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

Ozai's mind was drowned by ecstasy. Utterly overpowered by the comet's influence, in those minutes when Sozen's Comet was at the apex of its flight, all humanity drained out of him.

For his part, he lost all sense of reason and rationality. Nothing was above him, beyond him. He did not reason, he did not consider, not one thought flashed through his mind.

To others, the glaze of his eyes said he was animal; in his own mind, Fire Lord Ozai, had become the accumulation of his lifelong dreams. He had become God.

--

In the palace gardens, gentle ethereal swaying plants were being consumed by fire. Spreading out from a circle of charred earth and ash, it quickly devoured row after row of flowers as it raced towards the perimeter wall. The air was filled with the smell of burning. A large urn, filled with an exotic shrub, burst into flames. The paint cracked under the heat. Moving on, the flames began to lick up a row of small delicate trees.

Abruptly it retreated. Halfway up the trunk and the flame simply vanished, dragged out of existence. All along the path the flames stuttered and died. Six shadowy figures hurried through the respite.

Atop his crooked balcony, Ozai observed this, and a smirk grew on his face. Only a true master could scatter a blaze into particles. He himself was one. He knew no others. The grin widened. Aside from himself, only one other in the world would have the natural aptitude to reach such a level, even if combined with the power of the comet.

His greatest and only threat, the Avatar, was returning for the third and final battle.

It pleased him greatly to know that this time he could make no mistakes.

With impatience and amusement he watched the path of black forge its way through the sea of whirring, blinding flames. An arc of fire lashed up towards him and all at once battle was joined.

Ozai batted aside the blast with ease. Watching the six moving figures he began to identify them from the strength of their attacks.

The first must be the Avatar; his power was greater than Ozai had expected, after so long with his daughter.

A second fiery tongue. His brother's unique style was unmistakeable.

A third. The traitorous son, a traitor to the end. Surrounded by fire and power, it stung Ozai not at all.

Lu Ten's attempt next. They were closing.

The final figure was Katara. She could not attack at this range. Her vulnerability excited him.

Once again his eyes blazed, his sinews tautened.

Below him, two-dozen master firebenders rushed to meet the attackers.

--

Fire. On all sides. Everywhere fire. Like a prison it enclosed on her, swirling to great height, leaving only a cap of feeble sky. As the garden went up in flames, filling the air with smoke and ash and soot, human figures, black against the stark copper background, darted in and out, parting the flames, appearing to strike and vanishing like phantoms. Caught in the centre, with no means of escape, Toph for the first time experienced real, sickening fear as the Demonic scene played out around and against her. The men, faceless in the glare, leapt nimbly through and within the flames and lashed out, everywhere, from every direction, as though it were really one spectre stalking her.

With grim nauseous determination she held her ground and defended. But her fighting calm was beginning to break.

--

Before the balcony, the only colours discernible were red and black. Darkness and fire. Caught in this dark burning hell, friend and foe flashed all at once into reality before fading into silhouettes once more. Fire breathed out- as strong and confident as it can possibly be- filling the air with blistering heat and brightness. Black. Red. Black. Red. The battlefield flashed and stuttered but the group fought on. Lu, Iroh, Zuko, on the right and front; three swirling wreaths of flame. Fighting men they probably knew but could not identify in the fickle, erratic light. The smell of sweat and burning and charred flesh.

And Katara, bloodied and grimed and plastered with sweat, all alone on the left, a lance of water flashing and spearing as she put every ounce of her will into this last fight.

As one they formed a sort of horseshoe; a wall against the tide of fire that threatened to engulf them. In the midst of this, hurling spears of flame with more aggression than anyone could have guessed he had, Aang had abandoned every effort to keep the blood from running out of his nose or mouth, all effort even to stand, as he put all the energy he could, all the energy he could find and snatch, from any corner of his body, into swinging blow after explosive blow at the balcony above.

Ozai should have been afraid. It took all his concentration to parry or dodge the precise and fearsome attacks of his only true equal in firebending. But even as he tired, and death for the first time presented itself as a real possibility, Sozen's comet kept him in the fight, and savouring every second.

A globe of fire swept up towards him. Pressing both hands together he dispersed the blow. It pushed against him with the strength of an ox, then dispelled. A tongue of fire arced upwards. He dodged, but another caught him in the arm. Another blow, and another, with not a second in between. He dropped to one knee in a desperate defence.

The attacks slowed. Iroh, of all the fire benders, was giving. Old, and slow and by now unused to such fearsome, sustained combat, attacks were slipping by him, and Aang was forced to keep one eye on his right.

Then the attacks ceased altogether. Ozai stood up with an arrogance and sureness that had never faltered.

Katara, completely out-classed by the terrible strength of the Firebenders, had fallen backwards, a fierce burn on her arm.

Aang had turned to help; but never made it. Once again the Avatar was kneeling, broken and beaten, while resplendent Fire Lord Ozai stood triumphantly over him.

Only seconds later, Toph was led semi-conscious into the circle. Zuko and Lu and Iroh had stopped fighting.

**Two more chapters to go (one is an epilogue). **


	34. I would be abandoning you

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

The roaring flames threw a flickering semi-light into the clearing.

In this weak illumination Aang's face glowed deathly pale, apart from a vivid streak of black where the blood from his nose had ran down his face.

From the cracked balcony Ozai gazed down on his victory with carnal contempt: a deep gloating confirmation of his vast superiority.

He could have laughed; the arrogant smirk was always on his lips. The blazing eyes never left Aang's still, kneeling form.

"The eternal aggressor is victorious again," he muttered euphorically.

He repeated it more loudly. His powerful voice joined the whirring of the flames.

No-one moved. All eyes were on him, and he revelled in their fear and awe.

And for a third time he bellowed, in a voice deep with exultation "The eternal aggressor is victorious again!

Oh, but I am glad you came back, Avatar! This moment was arranged by the heavens! It was brave of you- indescribably brave- to dare come and face me again. To think my daughter failed to break you. She gave herself more credit than she was worth…"

Aang's head hung down. His sudden submissiveness infuriated the Fire Lord in his moment of victory- he wanted to look into his enemies' defeated eyes.

"And to think," he went on, "that you could almost have won. You were so close, Avatar! So close! After all, here I am, standing before you. So near, your ultimate objective is so _near_, but you cannot kill him. You fell at the moment of your conquest. Is it not galling? To think it is all over!"

Still Aang's head hung. Ozai's contemptuous smirk curled into a snarl as the comet's intoxication hurled him from one emotion to another. His voice echoed out breathed in spite.

"But I _am_ glad you came back, Avatar and I will tell you why. Because right now there is nothing more I want than to look into your eyes as you die! Look at me, do you dare!"

A smile of pure malice touched his lips. "And when you are dead and forgotten, then, I think…" he tipped his chin, "I will deal with the water tribe peasant, nice and slowly. Azula will envy my skill."

A flash of familiar triumph in the smile. Aang's head came up slowly, tilted a little, and his grey eyes shone red in the weakening firelight.

Ozai should have seen the fury in them. It would have checked him. But his hand raised, and for the second time that night the world lit up with a mighty conflagration that scorched the air itself.

Calm. The calm of the other side. The calm of crossing. The calm of the end.

Cupped hands extend.

Total calm.

The roaring inferno nears, unstoppable.

And then the flurry of passion. As one inferno roars forward Aang's spark of defiance ignites a world of passion- all that he fights for, the people, the places, the concepts. All he has suffered, all that others have suffered, come together in sheer emotion. And at the centre, shining like a star in his mind, Katara.

The inferno pivoted, curled around the small kneeling form, and reversed completely.

Ozai was stunned by its power- a second later a charred shadow was all that remained of resplendent Fire Lord Ozai.

--

There was at least a minute's silence. No-one seemed to understand what was happening anymore. They were caught out of step, out of time. The hundred aristocrats stared at each other in disconcerted uncertainty.

Then Prince Zuko, heir to the Fire Nation, did something spectacular.

"Stop!" Zuko ran into the centre of the circle and put his arms up. It was no surrender. The uncertain aristocrats eyed one another. A few eyed the motionless Avatar at his feet and moved forward.

Their trespass seemed to ignite in Zuko his own flame of passion. As the comet passed its apex the full authority of Zuko's position was brought to bear, and he repeated "Stop! All of you! No-one moves!"

Every man there was a politician. They understood the fickle workings of a nation. So in turn they understood that killing the single obvious heir to the throne could ignite a civil war that would undo everything they had worked towards for a hundred years.

But Sozen's Comet still hung in the sky. The subtle under workings of politics did not once occur to them. Dominance, aggression, power- these were the things they understood.

So perhaps, if Zuko had stood one inch less strong, or more withdrawn; if he had not presented to them his entire self; they would have attacked, and all Aang and the group had worked towards would have been lost after it had been won.

But standing there in the failing light of the flames, his defiant eyes blazing, with not a shred of fear, Zuko _was_ power. With his will he touched the most primal instincts. Zuko was in every sense the leader, and it did not matter that they did not consider his class in that moment. Like the beasts the comet created them as, he had established command by power alone.

Thus began the forty year reign of Fire Lord Zuko, the strongest and most determined in a century, who never even fought a war.

The moment began to fade. Their augmented emotions quelling, the aristocrats relaxed, standing idly and confusedly around like unneeded hands on a ship. None had second thoughts of treason. Zuko's reign was already established.

Then Katara screamed something terrible. Zuko spun on his heel. Lu and Iroh rushed to join him. Aang had keeled over.

--

"Hey Katara…"

Aang looked around vaguely. A little blood ran down from his nose.

Katara watched in stunned disbelief. She bent down close to him and spoke continually into his ear, and he seemed to stir.

"But you won't die," said Lu suddenly. It sounded a little like a command.

Aang didn't seem to hear. "We won," he whispered. "We won. I did it, didn't I Katara? I beat him?"

His glassy eyes never left hers.

"Yes. Yes. You won." Tears rolled down her face.

"But you won't die!" Zuko's cried with righteous anger. The injustice of it harrowed him. "Not now, not after you have won and all your enemies are gone."

His voice shook a little. "There is so much we could build on from here. So much to do. You would just leave us…"

"Katara. Katara!" he clutched her tunic. A strange smile touched his lips.

"I can see the Avatars. They're beautiful…"

He coughed a little; two globes of blood appeared at the corners of his mouth.

Lu was on his right. Desperate words came from all directions. Aang tried to lay down but Zuko held his head up. He stirred.

"It's so… hard… to stay…"

"But it would be so right! Surely- _Surely_, Aang, you cannot flee from everything you know!"

Aang looked round at Lu, and, in his mournful delirium, said,

"It's Avatar Roku, can you see him?"

Then he looked back at Katara, his feverish smile faded. The spots of blood at his mouth broke and ran down the sides of his face. He put a hand out and she clutched it.

"I…" He struggled to speak and Katara choked.

"I don't want… to abandon you again," he managed. He touched her face with a wavering hand.

"No!" Katara screamed several times, "No, no, no!"

Her eyes stared back into his, breaking the glossy lamina of delirium. As they had done so many times before, without knowing it, they stared past appearances. They stared into each-other's soul.

"No," she choked once more, and persisted, "it isn't that, Aang. It is just that… if you died now, in my arms, I would be doing what you have never done. I would be abandoning you."

Aang managed a final smile. A genuine smile. His wavering hand dropped.

Lu dropped his head a little, stared vacantly on. Suddenly the harsh immorality of the world weighed down on him and intimidated him with its scale.

It filled him with rage he hadn't known all his life. That life itself, the essence of life, was so mercilessly unsympathetic. It was pitiless, uncaring, uninterested.

He turned to Zuko and said his name. And again.

The Prince's taut untwitching face registered no recognition. The acute eyes stared onwards. The mouth stayed shut.

"Zuko! Zuko, Listen!" Lu screamed. Zuko turned only his good eye: a disinterested glance, as though to say, "what's the point?"

But Lu could not back down. A nerve in his jaw jumped. He stared under his eyebrows.

"Where do we bury him, Zuko?"

No answer. Zuko's glanced around at a sea of faces with a sickened and dishonoured expression.

"Where do we bury him! Answer!"

Lu didn't know where his fury came from, but it was endless. I He absolutely needed to put all of it to rest. To let it lie left it unfinished.

But Zuko could not answer. Because how could it be finished.

Suddenly Lu's reasoning logical mind began to work, and it occurred to him the full extent of what was happening.

He moaned softly, and shook his head violently, as though to dislodge his reasoned thoughts and return into his irrational fury.

Then Katara called him. And again.

He turned erratically. Katara was lying over Aang. Vaguely she said something again, but Lu didn't listen. The blood was drumming in his ears and he focused on it as a means of again.

Then she said it again, and again, and suddenly she was hysterical.

Zuko watched her strangely, and his surrendered eyes were more telling than the body itself.

But she went on screaming and screaming, and Lu looked at her with dead eyes, until she grabbed his sleeve and pulled hard enough to tear the fabric. He advanced and put an arm over Aang's chest. Katara's attempts to guide his hands no longer occurred to him. He felt himself begin to shake, gently, gently, and then more fiercely.

But…

But it wasn't only him shaking. He realised for the first time that Aang- Aang- was moving too. In his chest, beneath the weak ribs, the barest flutter of movement.

He understood why Katara was screaming.

"What do we do now?" he asked unthinking, unreasoning.

"Now," said Zuko with fervour, "now we end the destruction. Now we rebuild. And grow in ourselves. And help others to grow. We did not die in this war. Now we shall live."

**If you want me to explain any of the choices I made here, I'll do so in the epilogue. **

**And then… as sudden as the death of Elvis Presley in the bathroom, yet as predictable as the Zimbabwean elections… it's all over! **


	35. Epilogue

**Final chapter to sum things up. It's been fun! Glad you enjoyed it! **

**The last section of chp 34 was, I admit, fairly confusing. The idea I had in mind was that Lu was sort of experiencing post-mortem shock. He's confused and disorientated. He doesn't know what he's doing. Could have conveyed that better. Katara is gesturing to him because she was lying over Aang- she could feel his chest moving also. Didn't explain that clearly. I hope the mistakes didn't ruin the (hopefully) effective ending.  
**

**Disclaimer: For the very last time, I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

As soon as Zuko was pronounced Fire Lord, he set about returning the lands of the Earth Kingdom to their former rulers, and slowly and efficiently demilitarising his own nation. It was long and difficult- thousands upon thousands of soldiers cannot simply return into everyday life. Furthermore many former Earth Kingdom colonies were now home to more fire nation colonists than Earth Kingdom citizens. Many people- including Zuko, on occasion- argued that much of the "colonies" was in fact traditional Fire Nation soil which the Earth Kingdom had seized many years before the war.

And, it cannot be denied, Zuko carried some of his descendant's dominating aggression. Though Zuko and Aang worked tirelessly to settle the borders, the Fire Nation still ended the war with more land than with which it had begun.

Toph's wounds would be long in healing. She carried scars the rest of her life.

In some ways she was happy. Contentedly she looked back on the highpoint of her life, the times of heroism and adventure- but also sadly because she knew that that highpoint was over.

She admired her skill while she was in her prime, and even more so, her courage. Of that much she was proud. But the black intermittent figures, flickering in and out a curtain of flames, would torment her until her last days.

Aang was happy. Few Avatars are ever fulfilled. When he was fifteen he married Katara. He passed out when he slipped her wedding band on.

Katara always laughed at this, and Aang's ears would go red. But, in secret, it was testament to him. He had had the courage to face an empire and never waver; but not the fortitude to face his bride as he wed her.

Twenty years later, almost to the day, Katara was dead. Simple fever. She had faced armies beside him, but nature had her in the end.

Aang was, of course, very grieved, for a very long time. For some years afterward he would spend hours sitting in tall places, unreachable to anyone but himself, thinking, swaying slightly and staring ahead. He always wore Katara's necklace.

But the Avatar, for all the love he had had for her, was never utterly possessed by her death. Optimistic, amiable Aang knew that he had spent twenty truly contented years with her, all the while knowing that one day it would have to come to an end. And, he reasoned, she could have been struck down any time. It was unreasonable for him to expect an eternity with her. Twenty years was enough.

--

Exactly one day after the end, the success, the miracle, on Aang's insistence he and Katara climbed to the crest of a hill overlooking the bay of the Fire Nation Capital- a sweeping vista of terrain, at night, all centred on the proudly glowing moon, the symbol of water, in harmony with the sharp aggressive cityscape of fire.

It was only a small hill, but by the time they reached the top Aang's face was grey.

Katara watched, amused, content, as Aang flopped to the grass, looking despondently back the way they had come.

"It wasn't that far, was it?" he panted. He rubbed his injured leg.

She lay down beside him, unable to help smiling at his disappointment.

He stared vaguely down the slope of the hill. His lips curled into a cute little smile- the very same that she had seen when they had first met, over a year ago, on that iceberg. The smile of freedom.

Gently she bent over and kissed his lips.

After such a great event- after being so close to the very climax of a century of war, of the changing of the world, everything else in life was left strangely but pleasingly ineffectual. It was amusing to look on such petty problems and grumbling complaints, and to see again human emotion in only its mild, settled form. It was comforting as well.

A great calm descended on the two of them then- though all the pressure had been lifted, they suddenly felt closer to each other than they ever had before. All barriers had been removed. Alone on this hillside, there was nothing at all to distract them, no enemies, no problems.

It was over. They were free. Katara could not speak for Aang, though she presumed he felt the same- but for herself, she could have lay beside him forever.

**The End **


End file.
